One Week
by Kimmychu
Summary: Danny and Flack love to dance the horizontal tango. Everyday. Three times a day. And night. But one day, Flack says yes, and Danny says no. What will Flack the sex maniac do when his lover gives him the ultimatum of no sex … for one whole week?
1. Part 1

**One Week**

Fandom: CSI:NY

Author: Kimmychu

Rating: FRAO (we're talkin' Karma Sutra-rating here)

Pairing: Danny/Flack

Content Warning: Major sexual tension, Flack-snark overload, dirty thoughts. Lotsa dirty thoughts.

Spoilers: Meh, nothing important, but to be safe, post Season 2.

Summary: Danny and Flack love to dance the horizontal tango. Everyday. Three times a day. And night. But one day, Flack says yes, and Danny says no. What will Flack the sex maniac do when his lover gives him the ultimatum of no sex … for one whole week?

Disclaimer: YES, THEY BELONG TO ME - I mean, why, of course not, they're just fictional … hot … characters. Mmm, hot.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Author's Notes: Heheheh, thought I'd write this one to counter all the angst I've been writing for my other story, **Atop the Broken Universal Clock**, so far. Yes, ladies and the rare gentlemen, this is one is chock full of teh smexing. Well, actually, chock full of testosterone-pumped sexual frustration … and hopefully a lot of laughs too. Heh. So far, this is only the first part of the entire story, but you can actually read it on its own as a PWP.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

**i. Tripadam Bhramara**

Danny was dying.

He was pretty sure he was, because there was no way a man could survive such a massive surfeit of sensual pleasure.

One sweat drop trickled down the side of his face to drip off his chin, a translucent bead that plummeted downwards to become a small blot on his ripped open shirt. His hands scrabbled wildly at the broad shoulders of the man who crushed him to the wall, fingers scratching mauve cloth. He panted harshly, eyelids fluttering.

His mouth opened in a sharp cry when a powerful thrust lifted him all the way up, until he was tiptoeing precariously on one foot.

"Is this _hard_ enough for ya, Messer?"

The resonant timbre of Flack's husky voice in his ear sent shudders of pleasure running up and down his spine. Danny cried out once more as Flack undulated his hips, pushing deeper into his body.

"_Fuck_ -"

Danny felt every rumble of Flack's silent laughter radiating through his body from where they were connected. He whimpered, eyes screwing shut, lower lip bitten in an effort to stem the sounds pouring from his mouth. Flack was buried to the hilt within him, and standing as they were, it felt as if the other man had driven his way right up to his throat.

"I'll take that … as a _yes_."

Flack shifted the hand gripping his waist up to his face, caressing his cheek and running one thumb across his swollen lower lip.

"_Look_ at me."

Danny's eyes fluttered open. Flack's big eyes pierced him equally deep as they stared back at him, scorching like blue fire. The homicide detective's handsome visage was flushed, probably as red and sweaty and hot as his was right now. Flack was breathing deeply but unhurriedly, in absolute control, as he always was during their frenzied bouts of sex. What made the taller detective appear so goofily sexy at that moment, however, was that Flack was almost fully dressed in one of his suits, except for the fact his pants and underwear were down near his knees.

Flack gently pushed his thumb between Danny's parted lips, inside his mouth.

"I love hearin' the sounds ya make … yer moans, yer _whimpers_," Flack murmured, never once breaking eye contact. "Yer screams … when I do _this_."

The taller man pulled out halfway and instantly thrust back inside, grinding his hips in a corkscrew motion and lifting Danny clear off his foot. The CSI's eyes widened perceptibly, a scream of utter pleasure tearing itself out of his throat, body quaking. Flack knew _exactly_ where the sweet spot within his body was. The next thrust hit it again, the sensation so powerful Danny didn't even feel the slam of his head back against the wall.

Flack was now supporting his entire weight, catching one of his knees firmly high in the air, the other hand squeezing his bottom, squashing their bodies together. Their position caused Danny's bare legs to be spread wide apart, one nestling against Flack's leg, the other bent over Flack's elbow. The shorter man could feel the burn in the muscles of his legs, unaccustomed to the stretch, as well as the intense tingling ache between his legs. Fuck, he was going to be sore for quite a while _this _time.

"_Last chance_, Danny." Flack's breaths were faster now. "Tell me _right now_, and I'll take us to the bedroom. 'Cos if ya don't … I'm gonna _fuck _you _hard_ and _fast__right here _… until we both _explode_."

Danny managed to smirk wickedly at his lover. "_C'mon_." He licked his lips with the tip of his tongue. "_Fuck_ _me_ like an _animal_, you rat bastard."

Flack bared his teeth in a roguish grin and growl.

It was all the warning Danny had before Flack's hips began pistoning back and forth in a punishing rhythm, every thrust shoving him up the wall by a few inches. Danny no longer bothered to curb the sounds emanating from his open mouth, the strident cries following each thrust reverberating in his apartment. His shaking arms wrapped tighter around Flack's shoulders. The constant friction of Flack's jacket against his leaking erection was unbearable, and the amazing sensation made his eyes roll back in his head.

"_Aaahhhh_ … oh_ohh_, Don … _mmmmm_ … ah, _fuck_ …"

Flack was panting roughly into his ear, the sound interspersed with grunts and swearing. Over the overwhelming pleasure spreading out through his whole body from his groin, Danny vaguely sensed Flack lowering his leg.

"Wrap yer legs … 'round my hips," Flack gasped. His thrusts were becoming erratic, but no less vigorous.

Clinging onto Flack's shoulders, Danny moved his trembling legs as best he could around his lover's hips, crisscrossing them. The homicide detective swiftly grabbed the round globes of the CSI's buttocks, long fingers curled into the solid flesh.

"Oooh _yeeeah_ …"

Propping Danny up with his hands, Flack pulled out till only the tip was left inside, then thrust straight in to the hilt. Out. In. Out again. Then deep inside, so deep Danny choked on a scream, involuntarily tightening the muscles around Flack's hardened cock. The pressure made Flack yell, squeezing Danny's bottom in his hands so hard the shorter man was sure he was going to have bruises later on.

Danny could feel the growing quivers in the muscles of his taut body, the inevitable rush of mind-blowing bliss that was just on the horizon … almost within reach …

"Don … ohh _fuck_, I'm gonna _come_ …" Danny panted, head nuzzled against Flack's, eyes nearly closed, his long-sleeved Henley shirt soaked with sweat and pre-come dripping from his erection, hard on his belly.

It took a minute for him to realize that Flack had stopped moving, standing still and keeping him against the wall, body tense.

His impending orgasm gradually receded. Danny's breath hitched. His eyes widened.

Somebody was knocking on his apartment door, which was right next to them.

"Daniel! _Daniel! _Are you _alright?_"

Danny's blue eyes closed when he identified the voice on the other side of the door. He groaned, letting his head fall onto Flack's shoulder.

Oh _God_. It was his elderly neighbor, Mrs. Penrose.

"Daniel! _Please_, tell me you're _alright!_"

The knocking got louder.

Flack's body was shaking, but not from what they'd been doing for the last half an hour.

"Oh _shit_, _Don_, it's -" - Danny moaned at Flack corkscrewing his hips again while he was still deep inside - "It's _Mrs. Penrose!_" He punched Flack on the back in a panic.

Flack raised his head to look Danny in the eye. The fucker was actually _smiling_.

"I _know_ it's her." Flack grinned.

Danny gulped, hanging on precariously to the other man's torso. Oh _fuck_, he _knew_ that look -

The homicide detective slowly shifted back, making him drop his feet back onto the floor so he could stand up on his own again. Still, he could only tiptoe because Flack was still buried deep inside him. Danny shivered violently at the new sensations of having his full weight bearing him down on Flack's rock hard cock.

Flack carefully pulled out of Danny, holding the smaller detective's upper body close to his, planting kisses on and all around Danny's moist lips. The CSI whimpered anyway. He already missed the feeling of his lover within him, feeling empty inside.

Danny took a step away from Flack, brushing a shaky hand through his tousled brown hair, taking a deep breath. He tugged the hem of his Henley shirt over his stiff cock, eyes searching around for his pants. Damnit, where did they go?

Mrs. Penrose sounded like she was about to have a brain aneurysm.

"I-I heard you _screaming! _Is there someone _hurting _you?" She was banging on the door again. "I'll - I'll call the superintendent, okay?"

Danny slapped both hands over his face. Oh, _hell_ no, he didn't need another audience.

"Mrs. Penrose! I-I'm _okay!_" Danny finally yelled. He then whispered to Flack, who simply stood there cool as a cucumber, "Where are my _pants!_"

Flack just shrugged, looking like he was trying his hardest not to burst out laughing. "I dunno."

Danny frowned, wanting to sock him in the face. God, why did the man have to be so freaking _gorgeous?_

The shorter detective started to stomp off towards the living area to the couch where the fun first began. Maybe _that's_ where his pants were -

Danny was taken by complete surprise when Flack seized him by the shoulders and pushed him up against the apartment door.

"_Don! _What the _FU_-"

Whatever he was going to say was drowned out in a piercing groan, muffled just in time by his hand, as Flack kicked open his legs and reentered his body from behind. Danny leaned his forehead against the hard wood of the door, eyes scrunched up and mouth opened in an 'O' shape. Panting harder when Flack reached around and skillfully fondled his erection, calloused thumb rubbing across the head.

"_Open the door_, Danny."

His eyes snapped open, and he twisted his head around to glare at Flack with lethal eyes.

"Are ya fuckin' _crazy!_"

Flack grinned at him, humming under his breath. The taller man rolled his hips. It made Danny bite his hand in an effort to block the moan escaping his lips.

"_Daniel?_" The rapping resumed, this time, directly opposite Danny's head on the door. Danny was suddenly hit by the urge to laugh like a madman.

"Open the door, Danny." Flack was leaning over him, whispering into his ear and licking at his ear lobe. "C'mon, do it."

"You - you're so _dead_."

Flack chuckled low in his throat, running his hands firmly all over Danny's chest and flat abdomen under his shirt. "Oh yeah, and what a way to _go_."

The CSI couldn't help chuckling either, groaning softly under Flack's dexterous administrations. This was what he got for falling head over heels for a freaking sex maniac.

It was extremely difficult to keep his breaths slow and steady with Flack buried to the hilt inside him, huge and stretching him in ways that made him desire to thrust his hips back, feel Flack shoving his hot, hard cock in and out -

Danny sucked in a shuddering breath, then opened the door to a tiny gap with a quavering hand.

He peeked through the gap to see his elderly neighbor, attired in a long red dress with a shawl around her shoulders, staring at him with anxious hazel eyes. She smiled in great relief the instant she saw him.

"Oh, Daniel! Are you _alright_, dear?"

Flack was standing behind him, hidden by the door. And the sneaky bastard was continuing to stroke and molest his body as if he wasn't _half-naked _and being _fucked_ from behind while he was _talking_ to his _old neighbor_.

Danny was going to kill him. _Big time_.

"Hey, M-Mrs. Penrose." Danny attempted to smile, gripping the door knob so tight his knuckles went white. "I'm _okay_, s-see?"

Mrs. Penrose didn't seem to be convinced. "You're all _flushed_, dear! And _sweaty! _Are you _sure_ you're alright?" She held a wrinkled hand to her mouth. "I heard someone _screaming_ and - and I thought … you were being _attacked_ by someone!"

Behind him, Danny felt rather than heard Flack giggling quietly like a schoolgirl. Danny had to bite his lip as Flack's hips grinded against his bottom.

"N-_no! _No, nothin' like that, really! I-I'm _fine_." Danny tried to smile again, using the hand that had been gripping the door knob to swat feebly at Flack.

"Oh." Mrs. Penrose smiled happily. "Oh, well. I'm glad you're _alright_, Daniel. Perhaps I was merely hearing things. An old woman's ears …" She tittered to herself.

Danny swallowed visibly, chewing on his lower lip. Flack had pulled up his shirt and was swiping his tongue over the skin of his back, trailing fingers through his pubic hair and using the other hand to trace the flesh where they were joined together. It was driving Danny insane.

"T-thanks for yer concern, Mrs. Penrose. Nothin' to worry 'bout … really -" Danny literally had to clamp a hand over his mouth and nose on the last word.

Flack had decided it was a good time to begin thrusting lazily in and out of his body, striking his prostate gland every time. Danny deliberately tightened the muscles around the moving appendage, hard enough that it made Flack groan and become still. The homicide detective's hands on his bare hips were like vices.

Mrs. Penrose was looking unsure again, but, somehow, she wasn't saying anything about Danny's odd action. Danny wanted to grimace. Oh _shit_, she wasn't realizing what was going on now, was she?

"Well, I … I think I shall go back to my apartment now. If there's anything you need, I'm always next door." She sent him a wavering smile, then tottered away on her wooden cane.

Danny immediately closed the door, wheezing in tremendous relief and at the pleasure of Flack moving inside him. Oh fuckfuck_fuck_, _one_ more second and he would have fallen right there in front of her and screamed his lungs out.

He heard Flack snigger.

All of a sudden, Danny was infused with newfound energy. Oh _yeah_.

_Payback time_.

In a surprise movement, he jostled himself away from Flack, turning around to face the startled homicide detective. Flack appeared pretty silly standing there with his jacket, dress shirt and tie still on but his pants and underwear pooled around his ankles.

Danny grinned, all pearly teeth and fangs.

"Danny, whoawhoa_WHOA_ -"

Flack flew through the air to land on his ass on the floor, arms and legs akimbo, with the funniest expression on his face. Danny was instantaneously on top of him, straddling Flack's hips and slamming Flack's arms down on either side of his body, trapping them.

"Uh, Danny, _heeeey_, _buddy_ -" Flack smiled placatingly at him, displaying his winning one.

It didn't work one bit.

"Shut. Up."

Flack clammed up, lower lip sucked under the upper up. Flack was actually looking _frightened_.

Danny's grin grew more broad. _Good_.

"_My_ turn now."

Flack's lips twitched. The blue eyes got bigger.

"Get up on your elbows. _Now_."

Flack obeyed silently, assisted by Danny's hands on his arms.

"Bend your legs and spread 'em."

Flack licked at his lips as he did so.

The two men stared into each others' blue eyes, sharing a deep and profound look. Danny's hands clenched around Flack's wrists. Then, he released them, rocking back on his knees and feet.

"_Don't move_."

Danny raised himself up, reaching a hand between his legs and Flack's. He enclosed his hand around Flack's still erect cock, pumping it with surefire, familiar motions. Flack's hands curled into tight fists. A harsh groan leaked out from between the taller detective's closed lips. Danny moaned softly, relishing the feel of the hot, rigid flesh within his grasp. It was going to feel _so_ fucking good inside him.

Resting a hand on Flack's flat stomach, the CSI positioned himself over the man's flushed erection, using his other hand to keep it fixed in place. The mushroom-like head nudged at his slick opening, then slipped in easily. In one stroke, Danny sank all the way down until he felt soft curls tickling the sensitive flesh between his legs. He let out a lengthy, high-pitched moan, lifting the hem of his Henley shirt to hastily stroke his own dripping cock.

_Damn_, he could stay like this forever, straddling Flack like this, with his lover buried so deep inside him he could virtually taste the other man in his mouth.

Danny ran his tongue over his lips, staring into Flack's wide, blue eyes. The taller man began to push himself more upright.

"_Don't_. _Move_."

Flack paused, breaths increasing in speed, a sweat drop rolling down the side of his face.

Danny placed his hands on the other man's shoulders, moving Flack back to his original on-elbows pose. Now, the shorter detective was able to propel himself up and down by pushing on Flack's shoulders, as well as using his sinewy legs with his feet set on the floor for added drive.

They gazed into each other's wide, passionate eyes once more, seeing what only two bonded lovers could see in each other. This time, when Flack inclined forward to kiss him, Danny didn't stop him. Flack's lips tasted like the mint tea they drank earlier that afternoon.

"C'mon, Danny," Flack whispered hoarsely, settling back on his elbows, staring at Danny with a ravenous gaze. "Ride me _hard_ and _fast_." He smirked impishly. "Like yer big bike ya love so much."

Maintaining eye contact, Danny leaned back, keeping his hands on Flack's shoulders. He lifted his hips, up till Flack nearly popped out, then slammed back down, revolving his hips hard against Flack's groin. Both of them cried out, Danny falling forward so that their foreheads touched. The CSI felt tears spring to his shut eyes. Oh fuck, he was going to _die _before this was over.

"No rush, babe." Flack kissed him again. "We got all the time in the world."

Danny opened his eyes, smiled tenderly at his lover. Ran his hand through Flack's dark, shorn hair.

"Hold on tight," Danny whispered against Flack's mouth.

He didn't move, merely gripping and squeezing Flack's cock with his strong inner muscles, holding it inside him for a hundred heartbeats each time. From the blissful expression on Flack's handsome mien, it must have felt really good. Danny grinned like a cat, and started swinging his hips in wide circles, making figures-of-eight, groaning at the incredible sensation of the hardness within him rubbing on all sides.

A noticeable shudder shook Flack's lanky and sweaty body. "_Fuck_ … where did - where the _hell_ did ya learn to _do_ that?"

Danny cackled, a wobbly, rasping sound. "I dunno … just … just _felt _right."

Danny did it again, tightening the muscles inside too this time around. Flack began to pant, groaning, arms trembling.

"Danny."

The shorter man's arms were trembling too. Flack was staring at him with something akin to desperation.

"Please. Let me _move_."

The CSI huffed out a breathless laugh, hands contracting on Flack's broad shoulders. His tongue flitted out another time. The increasing quivering was there in the muscles of his body again, signaling the oncoming swell of his orgasm. He swallowed visibly, eyelids fluttering in anticipation.

"_Do it_."

Flack's immediate reaction to his words bordered on violent.

The homicide detective grabbed him around the waist, flipping them over so that he was on top of Danny instead, with the CSI's legs spread wide on either side. Flack had one arm behind his back, holding him up while he had his own arms enveloping Flack's shoulders.

Flack pulled out completely, then rammed straight back in to the hilt, grinding his hips against Danny's in a frenzy. The man's slicked erection raked Danny's prostate hard, causing the shorter man to jerk intensely and release an earsplitting cry. Danny threw back his head in an arc, moaning incessantly at the raging sensations flooding his entire body with every perfect thrust.

"Aaaaaahhhhh … aahhh_aaahhhh_ …. _AAHHH_ -"

He was there, he was nearly _there_ …

Flack's lips were next to his ear.

"_You're mine_."

Danny's body convulsed. The mind-blowing pleasure that wracked his body was so forceful, he couldn't even croak.

"_Always_."

He felt something wet splatter his lower abdomen. There was also something wet streaming down his cheeks. In the distance, he heard another man shouting, a solid body quaking against his. His vision grayed out. Danny must have blacked out for a minute or two, oblivious to the world.

When he came to, Flack was lying next to him, cradling his head with one hand and gently tapping him on his cheek, calling his name apprehensively.

"Danny? Buddy, are ya still _alive?_"

"_Hhnnn_ …"

Danny attempted to move, feeling sticky everywhere, a familiar, good ache between his legs.

Flack snickered, caressing his cheek. "Thank God, ya little _brat_. Ya _scared_ me for a second there."

" … _hnnngghh_ …" Danny's eyes were open into slits. He was so exhausted and boneless that he couldn't form words.

The taller man pulled him into a tight hug, kissing him on the forehead. They lay on the floor, Danny snuggled on top of Flack reclined on his back, too tired to move a single inch. Danny's eyelids flickered close under Flack's comforting stroking of his arm and sides beneath his shirt. It was these moments that the CSI craved for more than the sex itself. The moments where he and the man he loved simply connected on a whole other level that even physical intimacy couldn't allow.

Over ten minutes passed in contented silence.

Then, Flack said nonchalantly, "Huh. Ya think yer neighbor knows we're havin' sex now?"

Danny somehow found the strength to smack Flack on the side of his face.


	2. Part 2

**One Week**

Fandom: CSI:NY

Author: Kimmychu

Rating: FRAO (we're talkin' Karma Sutra-rating here)

Pairing: Danny/Flack

Content Warning: Major sexual tension, Flack-snark overload, dirty thoughts. Lotsa dirty thoughts.

Spoilers: Meh, nothing important, but to be safe, post Season 2.

Summary: Danny and Flack love to dance the horizontal tango. Everyday. Three times a day. And night. But one day, Flack says yes, and Danny says no. What will Flack the sex maniac do when his lover gives him the ultimatum of no sex … for one whole week?

Disclaimer: YES, THEY BELONG TO ME - I mean, why, of course not, they're just fictional … hot … characters. Mmm, hot.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Author's Notes: All I have to say for this installment is … I hope it's funny. Heh.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

**ii. Nagabandha Sangara**

Danny was dying again, possibly for the fifteenth time that week.

"Lemme do … all the work, babe."

Danny moaned audibly, fingers coiling into the bedspread and blanket rumpled beneath his curved body. Flack resumed thrusting languidly into him, caressing his thigh, lower back and flank with ardent strokes. He hid his flushed, warm face into the pillow under his head, only to feel Flack run fingers through his tangled hair and coax him into looking up.

"Hey, don't hide." Flack brushed a thumb across the CSI's moist lower lip. "Good-lookin' face like _that_ … total crime to hide it."

Danny couldn't reply for a few minutes. The way he was lying on his side, his thighs at a ninety degree angle to his torso, with Flack looming over him and moving in and out his body from behind his closed legs …

"Don, I'm _sore_ … I mean it -" His rasped words abruptly cut off with a sharp whimper. The homicide detective had gone in especially deep.

"But you're feelin' _good?_" Flack's low voice was husky.

Danny gazed into Flack's blue, intense eyes above him. He sucked in a quick breath at another deep thrust, toes curling downwards. The throbbing feeling between his legs was beginning to transform into a soreness that _wasn't _the pleasant kind. But he couldn't deny it. His entire body was still shuddering with fierce pleasure.

He finally nodded unsteadily, biting his lip. Flack was picking up speed, burying himself to the hilt with every thrust. Danny's head fell back on the pillow, hands bunched into fists in the red softness. Eyes scrunched shut, teeth gnawing lip, groaning loudly at the near painful sensation of Flack's hard cock pushing its way between his buttocks. Due to their current positions, with his thighs touching each other and how his body was bowed, Flack felt _massive_, stretching him beyond his limits.

The shorter man slid one hand down to his groin, wrapping it around his seeping erection. He moaned at the additional stimuli, shivers coursing through his body when Flack enclosed a large hand over his own.

"Danny …"

Flack's thrusts were becoming inconsistent, going short and fast, then deep and hard. The taller detective's lanky and sweaty body was trembling. The guy was close, very close. Danny let out high-pitched whimpers that grew louder and louder with each thrust. They struck the sweet spot within his body unerringly every time. _Fuck_, Flack was _good_.

"_Uhh_ … I'm _comin'_ -" Flack grinded his hips hard against the shorter man's round bottom, going rigid, long fingers digging into Danny's thigh.

Danny stared with large eyes at the rapture contorting the features of his lover's handsome visage, stretching a trembling arm towards the taller man's neck and tracing the defined musculature of the heaving chest below. The homicide detective's face went slack. He toppled forward, but even in his present state, he still had the awareness to stiffen his arms and stop himself from outright flattening Danny.

The CSI blinked.

His cock was still hard and dripping in his grasp.

Danny blinked again.

This was the first time in _months_ that Flack had come first, before he did.

Flack nuzzled him in the neck, nibbling a path up to his ear and reaching downwards to his groin. Danny squirmed at the other man's strong hand touching his very sensitive erection. At contact, the taller detective stilled, then glanced down.

"Oh _geez_, babe, I didn't know." Flack gently rolled him onto his back and gave him a soft kiss of apology on his parted lips. "I'm sorry."

The taller man was still inside him, softening.

"I'm gonna pull out, 'kay?"

He was grateful for the forewarning. He could _really_ feel the ache between his legs now. Even biting his lower lip couldn't stop him from wincing at Flack cautiously drawing out. And Flack saw it.

The self-reproach in those blue eyes hit Danny like a ton of bricks.

Danny tried to respond, to tell him it was okay, that it didn't hurt anymore. However, the only thing that shot out of his open mouth was a hoarse cry as Flack swallowed up his whole erection to the root, sucking and working on it with his lips and tongue.

"_Oohh_ … oh, _shit_ …"

The CSI grabbed at Flack's short hair, panting rapidly while he watched his lover's head bob up and down in a recognizable fashion. Danny couldn't move his hips at all, thanks to the other man gripping them and holding him down. He tossed his head on the pillow, begging with unintelligible words for surcease to the torture. Flack's agile tongue was doing things to his cock, spine-tingling things that made him want to burst into a million, bliss-filled pieces. As soon as the taller man wrapped his lips over the head and started pushing the tip of his tongue into the slit, Danny lost it.

It was ironic how he always came in near silence when he was considered by everyone he knew to be a very vocal person. At least this time, he managed to utter Flack's name in a throaty tone.

An eternity later, Flack was stroking his legs, murmuring sweet things to him. A touch to his face, a question asked. Danny wasn't sure. He couldn't tell what else was going on, his eyes shut in fatigue. It had been some time since he'd had _seven_ orgasms in a single night, five triggered by fantastically energetic sessions of sex. Damn, he was getting old.

He rested on his back, arms spread out on the bed, sensing Flack moving away. He struggled to call his lover back to bed, and merely succeeded in making a small sound in his throat, rough from all his moaning and yelling. Danny had no clue how long Flack was gone or how long he laid there, half-asleep, the fluid on his belly drying. Then, he felt a damp cloth being rubbed over his abdomen, more tenderly between his legs. His foot twitched when the cloth was pressed directly against the raw ache there. Oh, that felt nice.

Danny heard the click of the bedside table lamp being switched off. The cloth still left between his legs, he was smoothly turned onto his side, pillow tucked properly under his head. Instantly, Flack was spooned up behind him, plastered to his body from head to toe. The blanket was tugged over their limp bodies.

A kiss on his shoulder and ear. Sturdy arms enveloping his torso, shelter in the semi-darkness. Breathing eventually leveling out.

Danny's blue eyes stayed closed, although his mind wouldn't go to rest. Something was bugging him.

His brows lowered in a frown. He listened to Flack's soothing breaths, hoping they would calm his brain down to let him sleep. Instead, he became even more alert, minutely shifting his legs and feeling the damp cloth compressed down there.

Sex. It was all they were doing lately.

His eyes half-opened, gazing into the distance.

True, it was phenomenal, and every time was as fucking good as the first time, that day over a year ago when Danny had gotten tired of waiting for Flack to quit staring at him and _do_ something. Getting pounded until he couldn't walk straight in the CSI headquarters' locker room was still one of the hottest experiences in his life. Not to mention because it also happened to have been with one of the hottest men in his life.

Danny tightened his hand on Flack's relaxed one, going tense under the blanket.

Sex. That was all he ended up doing with his former girlfriends and the rare boyfriend too.

Right before things went downhill. And they dumped his ass because they got bored with him. Used him all up until he had nothing left to make them feel good anymore.

He twined his fingers with Flack's. Still sleeping, the homicide detective murmured something, fidgeting, then went motionless, back in a deep slumber. Danny's eyelids fluttered. He was getting that awful sinking sense in the pit of his stomach, that same one he got whenever he figured life was about to screw him in the nasty way and leave him hanging. Yet again.

Danny pulled Flack's arms tighter around himself, suddenly cold and despondent. He stroked agitatedly at the sleeping man's heavy forearm.

No. He couldn't afford to lose Flack. He _lov_-

The CSI promptly rolled around in Flack's embrace to face his lover, nestling his head under the slumbering man's chin and committing his natural scent and warmth to memory. Treasuring the reassuring weight of Flack's arms over and around him, their legs intertwined together.

_No_. He was _not_ going to lose Flack.

He _couldn't_.

Danny's eyelids drooped over hot eyes in the dimness.

Because … how could somebody continue to exist with half of themselves missing?

**iii. Madandhvaja**

Flack chucked more crunchy pop corn into his gaping mouth, slouching haphazardly on Danny's battered couch, bare feet propped on the short coffee table. He brushed a few crumbs off his bare chest and checkered pajama pants. His blue eyes were wide with curiosity as they stared at the television screen.

"Geez, what kinda show _is_ this?" Flack asked between chews, turning his head to look at Danny.

"Looks like some kinda modelin' competition or somethin'."

The CSI was dressed in a black tank top and dark blue track pants, sitting next to him, lean legs folded up in front of him. Danny was hugging a pillow too, watching the show with squinty eyes. Flack studied the other man's profile for a while with a tiny smile. He was wearing those steel, black-framed spectacles that Flack liked this evening. They gave the shorter detective an eye-catching, sophisticated appearance.

Flack placed the bowl of popcorn on his lap, shifting his gaze back to the television. He used his tongue to lick at a kernel that was stuck between his molars in the back of his mouth.

Huh, he knew female modeling shows were more common than there were skyscrapers in New York city … but a _male_ modeling reality show? That was something he hadn't seen before. The homicide detective threw some more popcorn into his mouth. And judging from the expression on Danny's face, the guy didn't seem to think it was anything exciting either.

Then one noteworthy model appeared on screen.

Flack's munching slowed to a stop. He sat up and leaned forward to better scrutinize the brown-haired participant who was now being interviewed by the judges.

Whoa, _hey_, now _this_ guy looked kinda hot.

Flack angled his head, ruminating over why he thought that. He went back to chewing on the popcorn in his mouth.

The model wasn't wearing a shirt, displaying a wiry, muscular body and well-developed arms. He had short, spiked up hair. Nice blue eyes. Nice smile too, like a cat's. _Hmmmm_. Had an interesting accent as well, not a New York one, though it was pleasing to listen to.

And hey. He wore _glasses._

Flack grinned inwardly. _Ohhh_, he got it.

No wonder he thought the guy was cute. He looked just like Danny. Like a poor man's version of the real thing.

He grinned on the outside. Yeah, Danny was _his_. The _real_ thing, babe.

"Oh, _yeaah_."

Flack had his gaze focused so intently on the television, he never noticed the dejected look Danny aimed at him, nor did he notice the shorter man slinking away. It took an engrossed Flack four minutes to become conscious of Danny's absence. He moved the bowl of popcorn onto the coffee table, standing up and glancing around the living area with a slight frown.

"Dan?"

Flack scratched his head. Well, this was weird. Danny never upped and left just like that.

"Danny?"

He followed his instincts, heading for the bedroom. The door was half open, and he lightly pushed at it.

The bedside table lamps were switched on. There was a huddled bulge on the bed, swathed in the thick, dark red blanket Danny favored. All Flack could see of the man were tufts of brown hair sticking out from the top of said blanket. Danny had his back turned towards the bedroom door.

Flack scratched at his head a second time. Huh, Danny was asleep already?

The taller detective approached the bed, understanding dawning on him by the time he was clambering on all fours on the mattress. He grinned like a boy at the candy store.

Oh _hoooh_, the little, cunning _brat_ … pretending he was sleeping in the bedroom so he could lure Flack to have some quality nookie time. Man, Flack _loved_ the way Danny's brain worked sometimes.

"_Daaaannnnnny_." Flack touched the reclined man on one blanket-wrapped shoulder.

_WHACK!_

The open hand that clouted him right in the face came out of the blue. Flack was absolutely unprepared for it, tumbling backwards with a shout, head over heels onto the floor, his gangly legs sticking up in the air. Sprawled out like a ragdoll, he blinked a couple of times, staring with dazed eyes at the ceiling. His handsome visage was twisted into a comical expression.

Huh_buuuh?_ What the _heck_ happened?

He blinked some more, then scrambled to his hands and knees, eyes peeping out past the top of the bed at the other man. Danny was still swaddled in the blanket, facing away.

_Huuuh_. Was this some kinda new _foreplay_ thing he didn't know about? He had no idea Danny was into violence in the bedroom.

Flack cautiously crawled onto the bed once more, calling out his lover's name, hands reaching for the other man's bottom.

This time, there was no way in hell the homicide detective could mistake the foot in his face as anything except a painful _foot_ in the _face_. He tumbled head over heels onto the floor for the second time that night, ending up with his butt in the air, warped like a human pretzel.

_Ow_.

Gravity decided to say hello, and his body toppled sideways to land on the floor with a heavy thud.

_Ow_. Again.

Flack rolled clumsily onto his tummy, head wobbling and one eye narrowed in a peculiar expression. What. The. _Hell? _He shook his head to clear it. _Damn_, Danny had one mighty kick. He waited for a few moments, then warily peeked over the top of the bed again.

The CSI was sitting upright on the bed, blanket around his shoulders. His arms were crossed over his chest, lips were pursed into an irate line, blue eyes blazing. He was still wearing his spectacles.

Uh oh. Danny was angry. As in, _really_ angry.

"D-Danny?" Flack got up and sat on the bed, wisely out of reach of those super chicken legs. "Uh, if this is some kinda new foreplay _kink_ … I don't really -"

"Sex."

Flack blinked. "Huh?"

"_Sex_." Danny's glare became even more ferocious, blue eyes widening. "Sexsexsexsexsexsexsexsexsexsexsexsexsexsex!" He inhaled sharply, looking like a red, puffed up frog. "_SEX!_"

Flack craned his head at a forty-five degree angle. What the, was this Danny's new way of asking for more nookie? The taller man sat where he was like a log, staring at his lover with the most perplexed expression in the universe. Oh man, this nuttiness was too much for his masculine brain to handle.

Flack always imagined the inside of his head to be like a special nuclear plant, filled with thousands and thousands of little Flacks in yellow safety helmets, rushing here and there to process every single thought and sensation. Right now, the nuclear reactor was overheating fast and heading for a total meltdown, and all the little Flacks were running around screaming their little heads off. One of the little clones was pointing at the flaming reactor, shrieking in a squeaky chipmunk voice, "He's gonna _blooooooooooooooow!_"

"_Sex!_" Danny was yanking at the blanket in exasperation. "That's _all_ we ever _do! _Do ya _realize _that!"

The nuclear plant that was Flack's brain went out with a throttled puff. And all that blurted out from the homicide detective's gaping mouth in the aftermath was a very caveman-like, "_Uuuhhhh_ …"

Danny refolded his arms in front of his chest, huffing crossly. "Tell me, Don, when was the last time we did somethin' together that _didn't_ involve sex? Hmm? _Hmmmmmm?_"

"I … uhh …"

"_Hhhhhmmmmmmmmmm?_"

Oh, wait, his brain hadn't gone topsy turvy on him yet. Flack perked up. "We … uh, we went to watch that movie! _Yeah_, ya know, the one with those two _cowboys_." Flack made a face, talking in a droll parody of a southern accent. "_I wish I knew how ta quuuuit you_."

For a second, Danny's lips twitched perceptibly. Then he regained control of himself and grated out, "And do ya remember what ya _did_ when we were in the cinema, _hmmm?_"

"Uhhm.' Flack scratched at his neck. "I, uh -"

"Ya _fondled_ me. In _public_. In a cinema _full of PEOPLE_." The shorter man shot forward and smacked him hard on the chest.

_Owww_. Flack rubbed at the bruised area. Man, Danny was _serious_.

"But - but … ya _liked _it!"

The CSI spluttered, face red, hands gesticulating wildly. "That's _not _the _POINT!_"

Flack pouted, lower lip stuck out, crossing his own arms over his bare chest. "So what are ya on 'bout?"

Danny took a deep breath, holding up his hands in a conciliatory manner. "The point is … everythin' we do now is …" The hand waving about started anew. "It's always _sex!_"

"But … but, ya _like_ sex." Flack pointed at himself. "_I_ like sex." He threw up his arms. "_We like sex!_"

The shorter man glowered at Flack. After that, he closed his eyes and sighed heavily, letting his head drop into his hands, face obscured.

"I didn't think I ever had to resort to this … but I _gotta_."

Flack watched Danny climbing off the bed with the blanket still around his shoulders, picking up a black ballpoint pen and a notepad from the dressing table. The homicide detective frowned, long fingers fiddling with the folds of his pajama pants. What was Danny up to now?

The CSI got back on the bed, sitting cross-legged and propping the notepad on his thigh. Danny gave him a mysterious look, then swiftly jotted something down on the first page.

"Here." Danny casually handed the notepad to him.

Flack squinted at the black words written on the paper, holding the page up close to his face.

"I, Danny Messer … hereby challenge Don Flack, Jr. to … an entire week of …" Flack's eyes became even narrower as he attempted to read aloud the last word. "_Seh_ … _seh-leeh _… _seh-leeeh-bah _… _seeeh_." He glanced at the other man with a bemused expression. "Whazzat?"

Danny was looking like an enraged, puffed up frog again. "_CELIBACY!_"

"Like I said," Flack said in all sincerity. "Whazzat?"

Danny stared at him with humongous, flabbergasted eyes, lower jaw sagging. Flack could fit a whole double decker bus in Danny's mouth right now.

"You. Don't know. What _celibacy_. _Means_."

The taller man pondered about it for a minute. It _sounded_ familiar, but … "Nope. What's it mean?"

Danny continued to stare at him in shock.

Flack patiently awaited enlightenment.

"Don, celibacy means -"

Danny's lips started to move in slow motion. Even his voice sounded bizarre to Flack as he concluded with two unbelievable, impossible words.

"_No sex_."

It took Flack a while to realize the man screaming his head off like a girl was himself.

When he did, his clamped his mouth shut, hands fisted in his dark, shorn hair, notepad falling onto the bed. _Naaaah_, he just made that up, Danny couldn't possibly have said -

"_NO SEX_."

The second scream of horror was ten times more shrill than the first. Flack felt his heart stop beating. Holy _shit_, it was the _end_ of the _world_, the _apocalypse_ was here -

Danny was frantically smacking him on the top of his head to make him quiet.

"_Holy_ - Don, _quit it!_" The CSI shook him hard by the shoulders, but to no avail.

Flack grabbed at his neck with both hands, tongue sticking out, making whiny, strangled sounds. Oh _crap_, stars were exploding before his eyes. He couldn't breathe properly anymore, vision going all wonky, room _spinning_ -

"Dan -" Flack coughed out, "I _think_ … I'm … _dyin'_ -"

A sudden slap to his cheek brought him back from the brink.

"See? _Seeeeee! _Ya can't even _think_ 'bout havin' no sex without havin' a - a _panic attack!_"

The taller man was still so stunned by being slapped that he couldn't say a word.

"Okay, that's it, that's _IT_." Danny made a decisive hand motion. "It's official. The challenge begins _now!_"

"Bu - _but_ … we haven't had any nookie tonight yet!"

Whoa, he never knew Danny could turn that dark a shade of red and purple.

"_NO SEX FOR A WEEK_, _DON!_"

The taller detective roughly ran his hands through his mussed hair in frustration. Oh, _ohhhh_, so _that's_ how his lover wanted to play it, huh? _Fine_.

"Gimme that!" Flack snatched the ballpoint pen from the other man's clutch, added something beneath the written trial and shoved the paper back.

Danny held the wrinkled notepad between his hands, blue eyes widening ludicrously.

"Wha - _no masturbation!_"

The homicide detective crossed his arms in front of his robust chest, appearing very smug.

"Damn _straight! _If we're not gonna have _sex_ for a week, that includes jerkin' ourselves off _too!_"

The CSI released a high-pitched squeal of outrage.

"You - _you_ …" Danny sputtered some inarticulate words, calmed down then said, "Fine. _FINE_." He seized the pen from Flack and wrote down something else under Flack's rule.

The notepad slammed straight into Flack's face.

"_Oww_, shit … that -" The taller man read what the other detective had written.

"What, NO _PORN!_"

Danny's lips curved up in a very fiendish smile. "Oh _yeah_. No jerkin' off, _no porn!_"

Flack swore he could feel steam blasting out his ears.

"Ohh, oohhhhh, _OOOOHHHH_, you wanna play _tough guy_, _hahn!_"

Flack suddenly realized something, and shut his eyes. "_Oooohhh_, I don't need to look at porn." He angled his head, smiling like an imp. "I got porn central right here in my _head_, twenty-four seven, three-hundred and sixty-five days of the year, _babe_." He started pulling up the most erotic memories of them having sex, his smile growing broader. "_Mmmm_, yeah, spread those legs, Danny, oh _babe_ -"

The other man had taken the now scruffy notepad and was liberally bashing his head with it, growling menacingly. Flack blocked the next few hits with his forearms, still grinning away with his eyes closed.

"_Ohhh_ yeah, Danny, ya feel so _good_ …"

One yelp-inducing blow managed to get through and land right on the top of his skull, shutting him up.

The taller man wrenched the notepad away, rubbing his sore head. Man, who'd have thought getting hit with a freaking _notepad_ could hurt like that? He pouted, glowering at an equally sullen Danny.

"Well, I ain't _done_ yet." Flack picked up the pen that was rolling on the bed between them and jotted down yet another rule for the challenge.

Danny was beginning to look unsure of himself now, which made Flack snigger inwardly. Heh, _this_ ought to make the guy change his mind and throw away this stupid _challenge_.

" … no use of _sex toys_, assorted _phallic_ _objects_ or _vegetables_, including cucumbers, carrots, aubergine … that resemble _dildos!_"

Flack wagged a forefinger at the gaping, red-faced man. "Ohh, I _know_ you, Messer. Did ya think I was gonna forget yer _dildo collection_, _hmmmm?_ And I _know_ ya wouldn't think twice 'bout stickin' one a' them _veggies_ up _there_ if it wasn't stated in the rules!"

Flack nearly snickered aloud at Danny dragging downwards at his own face with his fingers in vexation. Oooh _hoh_, just a _little_ bit more and Danny was gonna brea-

"Fine."

Danny literally signed the damn notepad, a defiant expression on his attractive face.

"I accept your rules. So _you_ gotta accept _mine_ too. And the challenge is still _on_."

The taller man's hands curled into fists. _Damnit!_ Damnitdamnit_damnit_ …

The notepad with the stupid challenge and the stupid rules and Danny's stupid signature was before him, the ballpoint pen thrust into his face.

"Sign it." Danny smirked mercilessly. "Or are ya a _chicken_, _huh?_" To add to the insult, he began making humorous chicken sounds, even flapping his bent arms like wings.

Something snapped like a twig inside Flack's skull.

He wrestled the pen from a sniggering Danny, virtually carving his signature next to the other man's on the paper.

"So _there!_" Flack flung the pen down in a temper. "Ya _happy_ now?"

"Uh hmm."

The homicide detective's jaw dropped when he saw Danny pointing in the direction of the open bedroom door, face deceivingly blank.

"You … _yoooouuu_ … you're sendin' me to the _couch!_"

The shorter man blinked innocently at him, eyes wide. "Ohh, I _know_ you, Flack. Did ya think I was gonna let ya sleep in the same bed tonight, knowin' you're gonna try every _trick_ ya got to have _sex?_" Those big, blue eyes narrowed shrewdly. "And I _know_ ya wouldn't think twice 'bout it!"

This time, Flack let out a scream of fury, looking very much like a Neanderthal caveman who'd totally lost all his ancient marbles.

"You're gonna _crack_, Messer, _ohhh_, you're gonna friggin' _crack_ like _glass_ 'fore _tomorrow's over!_"

Flack furiously seized two pillows from the bed, even attempting to run off with the blanket Danny had around his body. Flack had to let go when the CSI almost bit his hand off.

"Says the _sex maniac_ who screams like a _GIRL!_"

"_CRACK_ LIKE _GLAAAAAAASS!_"

Flack stuck up his nose at Danny with a loud _hmph_, then stormed off to the bedroom doorway.

"Yeah, we'll see 'bout _THAT!_"

The taller detective slammed the door shut behind him, cutting off whatever Danny was going to yell next. He stomped over to the sofa, sitting heavily on it. _Shit_. Shitshit_shit_. He hurled the pillows down beside him, sulking like mad.

No sex.

For an entire week.

No sex with _Danny_.

For. One. Whole. _Week_.

Flack kept cool and quiet. For about thirty seconds flat.

By the thirty-third second, he had his face buried in one of the pillows, howling his frustration and beating the couch cushions under him with tight fists.

_Not being able to make love with Danny for one whole WEEK?_

Don Flack, Jr. was fucking DOOMED.


	3. Part 3

**One Week**

Fandom: CSI:NY

Author: Kimmychu

Rating: FRAO (we're talkin' Karma Sutra-rating here)

Pairing: Danny/Flack

Content Warning: Major sexual tension, Flack-snark overload, dirty thoughts. Lotsa dirty thoughts.

Spoilers: Meh, nothing important, but to be safe, post Season 2.

Summary: Danny and Flack love to dance the horizontal tango. Everyday. Three times a day. And night. But one day, Flack says yes, and Danny says no. What will Flack the sex maniac do when his lover gives him the ultimatum of no sex … for one whole week?

Disclaimer: YES, THEY BELONG TO ME - I mean, why, of course not, they're just fictional … hot … characters. Mmm, hot.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Author's Notes: Indeed, Flack is a total horndog ... And, uhm. To anyone who loves them hotdogs. I'm sorry. _-runs away quickly- _

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

**iv. Ekabandha**

For Danny to say that the following morning was awkward was the understatement of the _century_. He had been awake before six in the morning, alone in the bed, faintly shivering from the chill.

And no Flack there with him, around him or inside him.

Which was really peculiar and distressing, to say the least.

But not as distressing as the apparent morning wood that was tenting his blanket right where his groin was.

Danny flopped back onto the bed, groaning, shielding his eyes with an arm. Damnit. According to Flack's rules, neither of them were allowed to jerk themselves off. Which meant, either he cheated by masturbating without Flack's knowledge, or it was time to revisit the cold shower days.

_Damnit_.

He _hated_ cold showers.

Especially when he had to take them _this _early in the morning.

Danny sighed loudly. _Stupid Flack_. The guy didn't have to make up that dumbass rule in the first place. One of his hands instinctively slid past the waistband of his track pants, downwards to his erection. He could … touch himself … _just_ a bit -

The CSI bit himself hard enough in the lip to hurt. He wrenched his hand away at the last minute, cursing endlessly under his breath. No way, there was _no way _he was going to prove Flack's words right.

He made an incensed sound, rolled over onto his flat stomach, hugging a pillow beneath his head and chest. Shit, this was even _worse_. The pillow smelt just like his lover. And this was one of Flack's favorite positions while he thrust insi-

"_Fuck!_"

Danny scrambled out of bed, stamping angrily for the closed bedroom door. He didn't give a crap whether Flack was asleep or not and was making enough noise to rival a stampeding herd of elephants. He was _not_ going to suffer alone.

He flung the door open, storming into the living area.

Well, what did he know, the guy was sitting there on the couch like he _owned_ the place or something.

"Mornin'," Flack said curtly.

The homicide detective sat at ease on the sofa, legs spread and his arms crossed over his chest. He was looking out the window, with his head turned away from Danny. The two pillows at the end of the couch appeared slept in, if the head-shaped dent in the center of the top one was any indication. Danny's toes curled inwards at the sight of the taller detective bathed in warm, bright sunlight. God, why did that man have to. Look. So. _Good_.

Danny couldn't help glancing at the other man's groin.

Unlike himself, Flack didn't appear like he was having any trouble down _there_.

"_Mornin'_," Danny rejoined just as tersely, tearing his eyes away from the other man, scuffing the floor with his bare feet. He unconsciously tugged the hem of his black tank top down as low as it could go.

Flack snickered.

The CSI's head snapped back in the taller man's direction. He snarled deep in his throat, blue eyes narrowed dangerously at Flack's evil smirk. The fucker was _laughing_ at him!

"I'm gettin' the shower _first_." Danny stalked off for the bathroom, not waiting for a reply.

Behind him, Flack sniggered again, a rumbling sound that went straight to a certain part of his anatomy that was happily disobeying him at the moment.

"That's fine. I'm sure there'll be _plenty_ of _hot water _left."

That _sonofa_-

Without looking back, Danny flipped his third finger high in the air to make sure Flack saw it. He rushed into the bathroom and banged the door shut with a foot, hands in tense fists. Flack's snickering was loud even through the closed door.

"Hey, _you're_ the one who doesn't wanna do _that_ for a _week_, remember?"

Danny ran his hands through sleep-ruffled hair, releasing an infuriated roar through gritted teeth. It was okay if he went back out there and kicked the guy in the nuts, right, _right?_

He clung onto his displeasure for a minute, then let it go with a resigned sigh, slumping against the bathroom door. As much as he hated to admit it, Flack was right. He _was_ the one who came up with the damn challenge in the first place. He gazed down at his groin, cursing for the first time his body's inability to not jump to total attention at the mere thought of sex.

"Why can't ya _listen_ ta me fer once, huh?"

He slapped his forehead with his palm. Oh great, now he was talking to his _dick_.

Muttering under his breath, Danny went to turn on the shower, setting it to the coldest setting. The chilly water washed over his hand as he stuck it under the cascade, causing goosebumps all over his body. A quiver ran through him at the stark sensation. Oh, this would definitely work. Even the hardest erection wouldn't be able to withstand iciness like _this_.

He hastily stripped, leaving his clothes on the tiled floor, and leapt under the shower. He yelped. _Gyaaah_, it was fucking _cold_. Danny hopped around in the shower stall, his teeth chattering. He swiftly became drenched.

It took some time for the shivers to diminish so he could wash his hair and body. He opened one eye to a slit, using his hands to feel for the shampoo and liquid soap. It was bad enough he had to touch himself where he shouldn't be touching according to some _idiot's_ rule. Memories of all the times he and Flack had sex there in the shower assaulted him as intensely as the cold water, making him tremble in a very different way.

_Fuck_, no, nothinkingaboutsexnothinkingaboutsex_nothinkingaboutsex_ …

Danny tried his hardest to think of sad and depressing issues, except all he could imagine in his mind was the homicide detective standing behind him, stroking his torso and legs with large hands, whispering into his ear as he -

The CSI deliberately curled his fingers into his palms until it stung. Okay, this was _not_ a good start. Why the _hell_ did he bring up the damn challenge in the first place?

The image of Flack staring at the television last night materialized in his head. Flack, staring at that model like he wanted to eat the guy up.

The same stare Flack always aimed at _him_.

Danny's lips thinned into an unhappy line. They'd barely passed the one year mark, and Flack was already openly ogling other men on the television. How long was it going to be before the man began ogling men in real life too? How long was it going to be before Flack got bored and moved on to someone else? Danny let his forehead touch the tiled wall of the shower stall, closing his eyes. That dismal notion that it was possibly not very long at all deflated him more effectively and faster than the ice-cold water did.

He shut off the shower, silence filling the bathroom. Well, he couldn't back out now. By the time the week was over, he was certain he'd find out if he truly had something good going on with Flack.

Or if he was headed straight for yet another awful crash and burn situation.

Danny stepped out, using the towel hanging on the shower stall door to dry himself briskly. The ten million dollar question was whether he would even survive this one. His brain wouldn't permit him to really contemplate on it.

The brown-haired detective hung the towel back on the rail attached to the shower stall door. It was then that he realized he had completely forgotten to bring a fresh change of clothes with him into the bathroom. He scrunched his eyes closed, groaning softly.

Oh great. _Just _great.

In any other situation, he'd simply saunter out in the buff without any reservation whatsoever and tease Flack with his nakedness -

Danny suddenly smirked. Oh _yeah_, the _ultimate_ revenge.

He strolled unperturbedly to the bathroom door and opened it.

"Took ya long 'nough."

Flack was leaning against the wall next to the bathroom doorway. He was smirking, but the second he saw that Danny was nude, the smirk instantaneously disappeared.

The CSI's pink tongue flitted out, licking at parted lips. Gazing directly into Flack's wide, blue eyes, he rubbed at his lower belly, baring white teeth in a wayward grin.

Flack's gaze drifted downwards. Those beautiful eyes of his became even wider.

Danny cackled, tongue flitting out once more.

"Don't worry … I'm sure _you_ won't be needin' the _hot water _either."

Danny felt Flack's intense stare on him all the way to the bedroom. More specifically, the man's stare on his bottom. He laughed under his breath at the other man's loud and clear swearing. Served the guy right for poking fun at him before.

Breakfast turned out to be an edgy affair. Flack had been wise enough to take his fresh change of clothes into the bathroom with him, so Danny never got the chance to eyeball the guy. Maybe that was a good thing anyway. The shorter detective wasn't sure how he was going to handle a hot, naked Flack knowing he couldn't even _touch _the man without exploding on the spot. The guy already looked so damn fine in a pink-colored suit and striped tie.

Flack kept staring at him all the way through their meal at the kitchen table. Any other time, Danny would be preening under the attention, and stare as much at the other man. Probably kiss each other silly and grope one another like they usually did. Now, he had to battle the constant urge to hurl himself at Flack to receive his special daily dose of protein that no one else could give him.

Danny ran his tongue over his lower lip. The homicide detective's eyes followed its movement, and Flack mirrored his action by licking at his own lip. Danny couldn't help licking his lip again. And Flack did the same, staring at Danny as if he was all that existed.

"C'mon, we gotta go," Danny rasped, forcing himself to look away. "We're gonna be late."

The CSI could tell Flack was itching to say something, and he hurriedly dumped his used utensils into the sink and walked into the living area before Flack could do so. He put on his coat, checking that he had his wallet, keys and cel phone, and that everything he needed for the day was in his bag.

The taller man came out of the kitchen a moment later, lips pursed and blue eyes as intense as ever. Flack stood before Danny, saying nothing. They stared into each other's eyes, frozen in place, lit on one side by sunlight. For an instant, it seemed like Flack was going to grab him by the arms and kiss him, challenge be damned.

Flack stared at him for another minute, then silently went to pick up his car keys on the coffee table. Danny had to close his eyes once his lover moved out of sight, his breath leaving his body in a shuddering exhalation. His toes curled inside his shoes. He was going to remember the sheer yearning in his lover's eyes the entire day and more.

When they were out of Danny's apartment and got into Flack's car, the tension between them spiked severely. Danny's fingers drummed frenetically on his thighs as he sat quietly in the passenger seat, avoiding eye contact with the other man by glancing out the window. Flack's hands were tight around the steering wheel, to the point the knuckles were white. The shorter man could sense the growing pressure within the other man eventhough he wasn't looking at Flack. He started an internal countdown to the moment the homicide detective finally blew up.

_Ten, nine, eight …_

Danny heard Flack take a deep breath.

_Seven, six, five, four …_

Flack was staring at the back of his head now, probably glowering in that sizzling way of his.

_Three … two … one -_

"Danny, this is _stupid!_"

_Boom_.

Danny turned his head to gaze at Flack. Flack had an expression that was an amalgam of frustration and supplication on his handsome mien, blue eyes big with contained exasperation.

"This - this challenge thing is _stupid_, 'kay? What's the _point_ of it anyway!" Flack twisted sideways so he faced Danny. "C'mon, _take it back_, okay? We don't _need_ this."

_Shit_, Flack was giving him his best puppy-eyed look. The one he could never deny for long.

"_Please?_"

Danny gritted his teeth. God, he wanted so bad to just say yes, but …

"No."

Flack threw up his hands, falling back against the driver's seat heavily.

"_No_, Don. I just … _can't_."

"Why? Why _not?_"

All of a sudden, Danny was pissed off himself. "Look, what's the big deal if we don't have sex for a week, _hahn?_"

Flack couldn't answer. Instead, he went back to gripping the steering wheel like he was strangling it, face contorted in a scowl.

"C'mon, Don, tell me." When the taller detective remained silent, Danny said, "What, if we don't _fuck_, we got _nothin'_ else, _that_ it?"

That made Flack gawk at him with sharp, wide eyes.

"Well?"

Flack's eyes stayed focused on him. Danny's foot twitched, but the CSI displayed no other outward reaction, apart from gazing back at Flack just as obstinately.

Flack's mouth opened. There was no sound. Almost immediately, Flack clamped it shut, shaking his head in a resolute manner and starting up the car.

"Forget 'bout it. We're both mad, and I ain't talkin' 'bout this now."

Danny crossed his arms over his chest, staring out the car window, lips downturned in dissatisfaction. "Fine."

Danny felt the other man staring at him again.

Obviously, he had to be a masochist, because he swiveled his head to return the gaze. Something deep inside him clenched hard at the blatant torment in the homicide detective's blue eyes. His hand also tightened on the armrest of the car door.

"_Fine_."

Flack turned away, scowl more grave than ever, stepping harder on the accelerator than normal. Danny resumed staring out the window, one hand over his mouth. He swallowed visibly, his throat feeling so parched.

Not even _twelve hours _into things, and they were already quarrelling with each other. And the sexual frustration alone was going to drive Danny crazy before he knew it.

Danny closed his eyes.

How the heck were they going to survive the next six and a half days this way?

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Danny was moaning.

The piercing sounds seemed to echo in the room, overwhelming the muted noise of the red silk sheets rustling beneath the writhing man. Danny was lounging on a pile of similarly red pillows, his lean legs spread apart on the bed. He was nibbling on one thumb, while the other hand was busy stroking his hard and dripping cock.

It was utterly erect, bouncing up towards Danny's flat belly everytime he completed a stroke from root to flushed head. Some pre-come had splattered against the smooth skin of his abdomen, glistening under the ambient lighting of the room.

Flack licked his lips, rubbing at his own stomach.

This was the Danny he loved seeing most, the Danny who had no inhibitions, no secrets, no masks. The Danny who opened up only to him this way.

The man on the bed stroked himself one more time, then beckoned Flack to him with a crook of one forefinger and an impish smile. The homicide detective grinned, clambering onto the velvety bed and positioning himself on his hands and knees over the other man.

Danny hummed, stretching up both arms to caress his neck, shoulders and chest. The shorter man was murmuring something under his breath, but Flack couldn't catch the words. The homicide detective lowered himself on top of his lover's body, molding them together from chest to thighs, shifting his head until the tips of their noses touched.

Danny's lips moved again. Flack frowned lightly, still unable to hear what the other man was saying.

"What is it?" Flack tilted his head to the side so his ear was right in front of Danny's mouth.

"_ARIGATO GOZAIMAAAAAAAAAASU!_"

The taller man jumped violently at the yelled salutation, temporarily blinded by extreme bursts of light. Barely a second after that, he heard the identifiable sounds of camera clicks.

Flack blinked numerous times, a comical expression of surprise on his visage.

His vision gradually cleared from the bright camera flashes, and he discovered he was face to face with a gigantic entourage of Japanese tourists carrying expensive cameras of varying sizes, eagerly snapping photographs of him. Flack gaped at them with eyes as huge as saucers, frozen to the spot by something akin to horror.

What the _hell_ was going on here!

"Wha -"

A couple more flashes and clicks, and the photoshoot ended as quickly as it began. Together as one, the whole group of Japanese tourists bowed before him. Then, they stood upright and ambled off, smiling and waving goodbye at him as if he was some famous New York city attraction or something. Some of the young women in the group giggled amongst themselves as they glanced back at him, covering their smiles with dainty hands.

Flack blinked some more. Wow, that was _weird_.

He heard someone attempting to smother an amused guffaw next to him.

"Flack, what has gotten _into_ you today?"

Flack glanced at the man who was beside him.

Hey, it was Hawkes. The Doc was attired in a long-sleeved, collared shirt and jeans, along with a black leather jacket. The guy was seriously fighting to stop himself from laughing his head off, one hand wrapped over his mouth. Hawkes' kind, brown eyes were crinkled up so much Flack could hardly see them.

"What the _friggin' hell _was _that_ all 'bout, Doc?"

Hawkes coughed, sniffled once and made a great effort to smooth out his facial features into his usual professional mien. "Well, that's what you get for _daydreaming away _and standing in the middle of _Times Square _like one of those _human statues_."

Flack made a face. "Aww, _c'mon_, ya don't think those tourists thought …"

Hawkes cracked and burst out laughing, bending over and clutching at his sides.

The homicide detective threw up his arms in a huff. "Oh, that's _wonderful_, just _wonderful_."

The former ME managed to stand up after a few minutes, wiping at his face. "You were - you were just _standing_ there with this _goofy smile _on your face," Hawkes said between chortles. "And - and you didn't even _react_ when those Japanese tourists came up to you and asked you if … if they could take _pictures_ of you -"

"So they came up to me when you didn't say anything, and they asked if it was all part of your _act_ to be like a _statue_ … I - I don't know why I did it, but I told them that it _was_ -" Hawkes was wracked with more amused laughter, shaking his head and pressing a hand against his abdomen. "And they put some _money_ into your jacket pocket … and - and after that, they all took photos of you. So they could show their relatives back home … one of the _wonders_ of _America_, they said."

Hawkes rubbed at his eyes, still grinning. "Ah, I do love the Japanese."

Flack gawped at Hawkes a little more, then looked down at his jacket pocket. Sure enough, there were a couple of money bills sticking out of it. He pulled them out, eyes widening at the amount in his hands. Whoa, these Japanese folk sure were generous people. The tall detective folded them up and placed them back in his pocket, greatly appeased. Well, _that_ was the easiest hundred bucks he ever made yet.

Hawkes was gazing at him with a very curious expression, teeth gleaming in the midday sunshine. "Okay, I _really_ want to know what you were thinking all that time, Flack. Because, I have _never _seen you like that. _Ever_."

The erotic image of Danny sprawled nude and sweaty and sexy on those red silk sheets dominated Flack's brain for the twentieth time that day. He gulped, lips twitching perceptibly. Nuh uh, no way was he going to tell Hawkes that. _Nobody_ apart from Danny and himself even knew they were in a relationship far beyond plain friendship.

"Trust me, ya don't wanna know, Doc." Flack waved it off, looking as blasé as he could. He only hoped he wasn't blushing as red as he thought he was.

Hawkes angled his head to one side, his eyes narrowed astutely. His smile widened. "Okay, _okay_, I won't push you about it."

"Thanks," Flack replied sincerely, letting out an inward sigh of relief. Thank God Stella was working with Danny today instead of him. He didn't need to deal with a whirlwind of a Greek woman on top of his lust-addled condition. Flack was dead certain Stella would have bombarded him with questions and teasing until he crumbled like a cookie. The Doc, on the other hand, was a nice guy. Hawkes never butt his head into anyone's business or lost his temper, and Flack was absolutely cool with that.

"I don't know about you, but I'm _starving_." Hawkes scanned the crowded area they stood in, mulling over what to eat for lunch. The former ME smirked. "That _chase_ earlier was a nice end to the morning, wasn't it?"

Flack grinned broadly. Oh yeah, that had been _good_. He and Hawkes had been assigned to what appeared to be a clear-cut case of a robbery gone bad. The victim, a middle-aged man in a pricey business suit, had been found dead in an alley a few blocks away from the Times Square Armed Forces Recruiting Station between Broadway and 7th Avenue. Point blank shot to the heart. From the slack face, no dirt or rips in the clothes plus the lack of any bruising or cuts anywhere, the poor bastard probably didn't even know what hit him.

The homicide detective's job had been made much, much easier when Hawkes came upon what was a dropped ID card, about a dozen feet away from where the victim was found. It didn't belong to the dead guy, so the logical deduction was that it might very well belong to the murderer. Flack had been on his mobile phone checking up details on their potential suspect when he caught sight of a lanky man in a green hoodie, who looked a hell lot like their perp.

Flack nearly whooped with joy when it dawned on him that it _was_ their suspect. Of all the freaking idiotic things to do, the dumbass actually _returned_ to the scene of the crime to retrieve his missing ID. He and Hawkes had a hell of a time racing after the perp through the congested city crowd. And _boy_, did it feel great to tackle the guy NFL-style and flatten him like a pancake on the sidewalk. All that pent-up energy inside him since he woke up had to go _somewhere_.

"I think I'll get a salad from there," Hawkes said, motioning with his head towards a small cafeteria further down the opposite side of the road. "What about you?"

The taller detective already had his eyes set on a hotdog vendor nearby. "Nah. I'm a hotdog guy."

Hawkes chuckled. "To each his own. Meet you back here?"

"Yeah, get our munchies, then I'll drive ya back to the labs."

"Thanks! I'll be right back." Hawkes joined the group of people crossing the street and soon disappeared out of sight in the bustling mass.

The moment the Doc was gone, Flack smacked his forehead a couple of times, berating himself under his breath repeatedly. Damnit, it wasn't even one in the afternoon yet and he'd already made a total fool of himself in public, thanks to him constantly fantasizing about Danny. In front of a whole bunch of foreign tourists, to boot. And probably half of New York city. And _Hawkes_.

Yep. He was _so_ going to _squeeze_ the life out of Danny the next time they met.

Flack groaned. Damnit, even simple _words_ were enough to get him all revved up. He bit his lower lip hard. How fortunate for him that he had his long coat on.

"Heeeeeey, _Flack!_"

Flack smirked widely. Well, look who it was, old Big Joe who used to sell hotdogs two blocks away from his precinct. According to the rotund, fifty-four year old vendor with the strong Turkish accent, Flack was his number one client, period.

"Hey, Joe, so _this_ is where ya ran off to, huh?"

Big Joe cackled. "_Yeeaah_, business is _good_ here, ya know? Felt it was time for a change of scenery. Heh."

Flack put on a mock expression of woe, slapping one large hand over his heart. "Ya _hurt_ me, Joe. Left me all alone without a word, and here I thought I was yer best customer. What did I _do_, hahn?"

Big Joe cackled once more, placing giant fists on hips. "Ahh, you bein' the top detective that ya are, I figured you'd sniff me out sooner or later." He wagged a pudgy finger at Flack. "And ya did, eh?"

The hotdog seller took out a bun that certainly didn't look like a regular hotdog bun. "Here, I'll make ya somethin' _special _today!"

Flack's thick eyebrows lifted. If he didn't know any better, he'd swear the bread Big Joe held looked a lot like a pair of …

"See, it's a new thing I thought up. I call it … the _Italian Sub!_"

At the mention of the word Italian, Flack's mind inevitably floated back to a particular person. Namely, a certain bespectacled man who happened to be very much Italian and had one lovely bottom that looked _just _like those buns -

" … and after I've spread on the flavored butter, I put in the _sausage_ -"

Flack's blue eyes widened at Big Joe shoving the meat between the buns. Oh hell, that was one _thick_, _long_ and _red_ sausage. And he _knew_ that brand of butter. In fact, it'd been the same one he used the first time he and Danny had done it doggy-style in the kitchen -

"And instead of mustard, I use _mayo_ now!" The greasy sound of the mayonnaise squeezing out of the bottle made the homicide detective's toes curl inwards. Fuck, that sounded just like _lube_ coming out of -

Perhaps the universe decided it was an excellent moment to play a joke on Don Flack. Jr. Perhaps he was simply standing in the wrong place at the wrong time. Perhaps the hotdog vendor squeezed the bread too much or something.

Without warning, the sausage suddenly shot out from between the buttered buns.

Straight at Flack's face.

It bounced off his cheek, leaving a wide smear of white mayonnaise and butter across his lower face and over a portion of his lips. His large hands instinctively came up to catch the flying sausage in mid-air, his eyes squeezed shut from the astonishment of getting smacked in the face with a giant stick of meat. The dang thing was all slippery from the butter and mayonnaise, so it kept popping out of his grasp like a fish trying to escape. After the third time it slipped out of his hands, he finally had a good hold of it in his left hand.

Oh man, it was just like holding Danny's -

"_Ohhh_, I'm so _sorry!_" Big Joe had some tissue papers and rushed around his stall to frantically wipe at Flack's coat. "I don't know what _happened!_"

Squeezing the sausage, all the homicide detective could see in his mind was Danny stretched out on those red sheets once more, encouraging him to encircle his hand around the man's erect cock.

"I _love_ it when you rub your thumb _there_, Don."

Flack began stroking his thumb against the underside of the flushed erection, savoring Danny's unrestrained moans. Oh _yeah_, babe, he had the hottest man in the world right here with him …

It took some time for the tall detective to realize he was using his thumb to stroke the side of a very greasy Italian sausage instead. With his eyes half-open and a dumbass smile on his face. In the middle of Times Square. While a fat Turkish man was waving a hand over his eyes repetitively, tentatively calling his name.

Flack jerked, glanced at the meat in hand. _Eeewwwww_. He let out a funny noise of disgust and chucked the sausage away.

_Damnit_, he was fantasizing out of control. _Again_. Why did Danny have to be so freaking _hot?_

"T-tissue … paper?"

Flack managed to send Big Joe an awkward, polite smile, plucking the tissue papers from the other man's hands and wiping his own with them. He then wiped his face clean, staring hard at the mayo on the tissue paper. Geez, why did the stuff have to look just like -

"I make you _another _one, okay?" The hotdog seller was back behind his stall, hastily getting out another shapely bun and an even _bigger_ sausage.

"Joe, it's oka-"

"_Exxxtra large sausage in HOT BUNS!_"

Flack crumpled the tissue paper in his fist. His lower lip had to be raw from being bitten by now. Okay, he. Did. _Not_. Need that image. His eyes involuntarily closed. Oh crap, there Danny was once more … lying on his belly and looking up at Flack with those pleasure-filled eyes as he pushed ins-

"Exxxtra mayo _eeeeverywheeeeere!_"

Flack made a keening noise. Danny was convulsing, mouth open in a silent scream, _coming_ and going so _tight_ around him -

"Here." The homicide detective felt something hot and soft placed in his other hand. "It's on me, ah?"

Oh. It was another of Big Joe's special … hotdogs.

Big Joe patted him on his arm, smiling. "You enjoy your _Italian Sub!_"

Flack smiled tremulously. Danny was back in his gutter of a brain again, licking his lips and wriggling his very own Italian special at Flack.

"God, you have _no_ idea how much I wanna," he murmured.

The hotdog vendor was already busy serving other customers, and hadn't heard Flack's heartfelt admission.

Apparently, Hawkes did.

"How much you want to _what?_" The CSI had a small plastic bag in hand, probably carrying his salad or whatever he got for lunch.

Flack was startled by the abrupt appearance of the former ME beside him. Geez, how the heck did the guy come and go so quietly like that?

"Uh … nothin'." Flack smiled in what he fervently hoped was a genuine manner. "You want a hotdog?" He handed it over to the other man before Hawkes could protest.

"I -" Hawkes stared at the hotdog in hand before glancing at Flack with a confused expression. "You - you don't want it?"

The taller detective cleared his throat. "I, uh, already had one. Guess I wasn't as hungry as I thought."

At that moment, Flack's stomach growled so audibly a few pedestrians walking past the two detectives turned their heads to look at Flack.

The homicide detective's fingernails dug into his palms. _Shit_.

Hawkes gazed pointedly at him. "Are you … _sure_ you don't …"

Flack gave the other man a parody of a smile. "Yeah, Doc." He took one look at the dark red, thick sausage snug between the brown buns, and hastily glanced away. "I'm _sure_."

The former ME blinked, then merely shrugged. "Okay."

Flack gritted his teeth when Hawkes sunk his teeth into the hotdog. Man, who'd have figured the guy's mouth could open up so _big_. And the way the white mayonnaise was sticking to the man's full lips -

"C'mon, gettin' outta here. Now." Flack stomped off down the sidewalk towards his car parked a couple of blocks away, not hanging around to see if Hawkes was following him.

For the thousandth time that day, Danny was at the forefront of his lusty thoughts. This time, his lover was kneeling before him, nubile tongue out and flicking at the tip of his dripping cock, white fluid spattered all over his face -

The taller detective ran a hand down his handsome visage in frustration.

That did it.

He was totally swearing off hotdogs and _anything_ that remotely resembled a sausage or a pair of hot buns for … for …

Flack got inside his car and leaned his head on his forearms on top of the steering wheel, sighing heavily. Seven days. Seven fucking days without touching his lover like he desired so badly. He unconsciously shifted his legs slightly apart, enormously aware of the hardness between them that was well concealed by his coat. Whatever reason Danny was sticking to this idiotic challenge for, the homicide detective hoped it was worth killing him with an atrocious case of blue balls.

As he waited for Hawkes to show up and get in the car, he whispered five forlorn words to himself.

"Miss ya, ya stubborn bastard."


	4. Part 4

**One Week**

Fandom: CSI:NY

Author: Kimmychu

Rating: FRAO (we're talkin' Karma Sutra-rating here)

Pairing: Danny/Flack

Content Warning: Major sexual tension, Flack-snark overload, dirty thoughts. Lotsa dirty thoughts.

Spoilers: Meh, nothing important, but to be safe, post Season 2.

Summary: Danny and Flack love to dance the horizontal tango. Everyday. Three times a day. And night. But one day, Flack says yes, and Danny says no. What will Flack the sex maniac do when his lover gives him the ultimatum of no sex … for one whole week?

Disclaimer: YES, THEY BELONG TO ME - I mean, why, of course not, they're just fictional … hot … characters. Mmm, hot.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Author's Notes: Whoops, sorry for the late update … let's just say it ain't easy being the Love Doctor to two good friends. Just for your info, I did not intend to write so many sex scenes for this story. In fact, the whole of the first part wasn't even in the original outline! And neither was the sex scene in _this_ part! _Hah! _But hey, I don't think anyone's complaining, eh? _Heheheheh_. Enjoy, and thanks for the reviews! I appreciate them.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

**v. Hirana**

If the television showed another freaking clip of two people kissing one more time, Danny was going to pulverize it to pieces. He angrily pushed a button on the remote in hand to change channels.

" … 'The Persian cat originates from the country that was once Persia, now called Iran, in the Middle East. Experts believe -'"

Danny's thumb pressed down on the button again.

" … 'Yeah, _yeah_, I am _Batman_. Then the mugger, he comes to and he starts _choking_ me. So I'm _fighting_ him off with _one_ hand and I kept driving the bus with the other, ya know. Then I managed to open up the door and I _kicked_ him out the door, ya know, with my _foot_, ya know, at the next stop.'"

Danny snickered. Seinfeld always made him laugh. But he'd already seen this episode a hundred times. He pushed the button a third time.

" … 'You wanna shove a _fucking strapped-on dildo _up my _ass! _You crazy _bitch_, I bet it hurts like a _muthafucker!_'"

Huh, the Jerry Springer show. Another show that amused him to no end with the sheer stupidity and depravity of humankind.

"'It's called _pegging_, ya fat, stupid _bastard!_'"

One of the CSI's eyebrows shot up. Pegging, eh? He spread his legs wider, scratching at his belly under his white tank top, and slouched indolently on his couch. Oh, he remembered what it was about now. He and Aiden had spent hours browsing the internet on kinky sexual practices after their case involving the human furniture. Half-way through their enlightening exploration, they'd stumbled on an explicit photo of a man kneeling on a bed while a woman was fucking him from behind with a strapped-on dildo. Danny had to endure over a week of teasing from his former CSI partner about whether he would ever consider getting it up the ass with a strapped-on dildo.

He smirked to himself. Man, if only Aiden knew how big a collection of dildos he had.

Or how he virtually screamed with delight whenever Flack pumped that phenomenal, hard cock of his in and out of his body -

Danny groaned loudly, collapsing on his side on the couch. He curled up into a fetal position, hugging a pillow tight to his body, blue eyes squeezed shut. The tingling sensation between his legs was back again for the thousandth time that night, causing him to squirm on the cushions.

_Fuck_. How long did he go without thinking about Flack _this_ time?

He glowered at the clock hanging on the wall nearby, and groaned a second time. Oh, great.

_Four minutes_.

Danny rubbed his stubbly face against the pillow, whining. Four damn minutes. That had to be a new world record. It was better than the last time, which was a pathetic forty-five seconds of no Flack in his brain.

And just over thirty-six hours of no Flack in his mouth or ass. And about 12 hours of that time didn't include challenge time.

"Stupid rat bastard."

He had no clue whether he was cursing his lover or himself.

Danny laid there for nearly ten minutes, moping quietly with an obvious pout on his attractive features. Now and then, he nuzzled his nose into the plump pillow in his arms, breathing in the scent of the man who'd slept on them that morning. Flack always smelt so good. Like sunshine. And hot apple pie.

"'_YAAARRRRRGGHHH!_'"

Whoa, the boyfriend or husband or whatever was attacking his woman live on the Springer show. Danny watched the fiasco with a look of disdain for about half a minute, then changed the channels. Bah, those fights were often staged anyway.

" … 'And the king of the jungle mounts his mate -'"

The blue-eyed man made an irritated sound. Quick press of the remote button.

" … 'Ohh, _babe_, I need you -'"

Danny scowled. Damnit, it was _another_ stupid scene of two people kissing. And the slurpy, smooching sounds were galling him beyond belief.

" … '_Mmm_, oh, touch me _there_ -'"

_Fuck!_

The riled CSI switched off the television and hurled the remote somewhere into the distance over his head. A resounding crack made him grimace. Oops, he should have thought twice about doing that.

Danny sighed deeply. He rolled onto his back, laying his head on a second pillow while still cuddling the first. It was barely eleven at night. On any other night, he wouldn't be sprawled on his sofa alone, much less still be wearing any clothes. His horny lover would never have allowed it. On any other night … He shut his eyes.

It didn't help to impede the inescapable memory of the last time he and Flack had made love on the very couch he rested on.

"Did I ever tell ya … how much I love seein' ya on yer knees?" Flack had rasped in his low timbre, softly into his ear.

The homicide detective was thrusting languorously, deep into his body, plastered against his back. One of Flack's large hands was stroking his throbbing cock, thumb rubbing against that sensitive spot just under the head, on the underside. It made the shorter detective shudder, a low moan escaping his open mouth. He _loved_ it when Flack did that. His hands tightened on the cushion of the back of the couch until his knuckles turned white.

"Holdin' on to the couch like ya are now … yer legs spread wide like they are now …"

Danny felt his lover's other hand slide along his inner thigh, up between their legs, long fingers caressing the heat where they were joined. His hips involuntarily bucked when Flack pressed the tips of his fingers hard against his perineum. The CSI whimpered, letting his head fall forwards onto the back of the couch, between his hands.

"You're so _tight_, babe."

Flack's thrusts were increasing in speed once more, his hands clutching Danny's hips. The taller man was striking that gland within him unerringly each time. Danny arched his back and let out a sharp cry as Flack yanked his hips backwards fast into the next deep thrust. Oh _fuck_, he felt that all the way up to his _throat_. The shudders that shook his sweaty body returned ten-fold, causing him to spread his legs even further apart on the sofa.

_Uhh_, Flack was filling him up so _good_ …

"So." Flack nibbled on his earlobe. "Talk."

The homicide detective had stilled, running hands all over Danny's sticky torso under his unbuttoned, white dress shirt. Flack was naked, but Danny felt as if he was the one who was utterly exposed instead. Eventhough his damn tie was still around his neck and his black socks were still on his feet.

Danny's pleasure-fogged mind couldn't comprehend the other man's statement. "W-wha?"

"_Talk_, Messer." There was definitely a hint of humor to Flack's voice. "That's what ya wanted to do, right?"

"You -" Danny's breath hitched harshly at Flack pulling out halfway … and staying there.

Flack snickered. "C'mon, Danny, ya wanted to talk, so let's _talk_."

Danny whimpered again. The taller detective's hands on Danny's hips kept him from moving backwards. If Flack had been driving him fucking wild before, now the guy was simply driving him fucking crazy with frustration. Danny deliberately tightened his inner muscles, desperate to goad his lover into moving once more. It didn't work.

"Tell me how yer day was."

The CSI whined audibly. He heaved against Flack's restraining hold, to no avail. Shit, why did Flack have to be so _strong?_

"I -"

"C'mon, Danny. _Talk_. Or I'm not gonna budge an _inch_."

Danny rested his forehead against the sofa, panting. His lover's hands were about the only things keeping him on his knees. That, and the slick hardness that was partially inside him. It wasn't enough. He needed _all_ of it.

Flack began to pull out completely.

"_Fucker!_ Gimme - gimme a _minute!_"

Danny could literally hear Flack grinning his head off.

"_Five seconds_."

"_Shit_ …" The shorter man couldn't help huffing out a strangled chortle anyway. It was just like Flack to torture him this way. And he'd never openly admit it to the other man, but he thoroughly enjoyed every second of it, what with the glorious reward at the end.

Flack was tracing random patterns on the back of Danny's neck with the tip of his tongue, sending a shiver of pleasure rushing down Danny's arched spine. When Danny still hadn't blurted out more words, he started pulling out a second time. He was almost out now -

"_W-woke up at seven!_"

The homicide detective's roguish chuckle rumbled in the expanse of the living area where they were. Flack unexpectedly thrust halfway in again, causing Danny to jerk and groan in surprise. The shorter man's hard cock oozed pre-come that dripped onto the cushion below him.

"Go on."

"T-then … I-I had _breakfast _…" Danny wheezed, face flushed red and his spiky hair an untamed mess. "Took the - the s-subway, then - _AaaAHHH!_"

Flack had shoved himself in to the hilt, corkscrewing his hips once.

"Hn, subway. Gotta love them _big_, _long_ _trains_ going in and out of them _tunnels_, hmmm?" Flack nibbled on his neck. "Then what?"

The taller man was shifting his legs, pushing them together while the guy was still deep inside hi-

"Then what, Danny? _Tell_ me."

Danny could do little except moan and whimper in a high-pitched tone. His thighs were now touching each other, with Flack's lanky legs flanking his, and the new position was making Flack feel _gigantic_ within him.

Oh shit, _no_, Flack was drawing out again -

"And - and …" Danny instinctively squeezed his legs closer together, as well as the muscles constricting around the homicide detective's erection, in an effort to stop Flack from withdrawing. "_And_, Mac sent me and Lindsay out … to - to interview s-some _suspects_ …"

"Uh _hmmm_."

"Then … I w-went back to the l-labs … had lunch with … Lindsay. _Mmmmm_, _move_, damnit …" Danny attempted to drive his hips backwards to take in all of Flack, but Flack's grip was too powerful and forced him in place. "L-Lindsay … she said …"

Flack's thumbs were slowly rubbing circles on the smooth skin of his hips. "Said what? Hmmm?"

Danny steadied his breath, then twisted his head back to gaze at Flack from the corner of his half-lidded, blue eyes. "She said … she had the _hots _for me … wanted to make me _hers_."

The sudden silence in the apartment was deafening.

Flack's fingers dug painfully into his hips.

The CSI gulped, his own fingers curling into the cushion of his sofa.

Without warning, Flack fully pulled out. Danny's soft whimper at the loss transformed into a hoarse scream when his lover rammed back inside, hips thrusting forward although he couldn't penetrate any deeper. Flack was preventing his legs from spreading, which kept his butt cheeks squeezed tight around the thick and hot erection sliding in and out of him.

"_Aaaaahhhh_, oh, fuck, _fuck!_"

A piercing whine followed each of Flack's next six successive thrusts, all similarly intense and deep with that familiar burn that made Danny yearn to grind himself fiercely against his lover. His arms were shaking so intensely it was going to be mere moments before they buckled -

"Clever boy."

Flack was motionless again, buried snugly inside him. One of the taller detective's arms was wrapped around his heaving chest, holding him up.

"Naughty, _naughty boy_," Flack murmured into his ear. Danny could tell the other man was smiling broadly. "Thought ya could get a _rise_ outta me with _jealousy_, hahn?"

Danny swallowed noticeably. "S-she _did_ say that."

There was now a different stiffness to Flack's lean torso. The kind the taller man usually had before he flew into one of his rare fits of rage.

Flack growled low in his throat.

The CSI shivered.

This time, Danny cried out at Flack roughly withdrawing out of his body. He winced a little. _Ow_, that burned. A tight clutch on his shoulder spun him around and maneuvered him into sitting down heavily on the couch, one leg bent on the cushions and the other stretched out between Flack's spread legs. Wide, blue eyes glowered at him from above.

Uh oh, Flack was _really_ mad.

"_What. Did. She. Say_." Both of Flack's hands were on either side of his head, fingers clawing into the cushion. The homicide detective looked like one seriously pissed off deity who'd just discovered somebody had despoiled his favored devotee in the worst possible manner.

Danny licked his dry lips nervously. "She - she said Hammerback told her I … that I had a _crush_ on her or somethin'."

Flack released another incensed growl at that remark.

"And she told me … she had a - a crush on me too."

Danny unconsciously shrunk back against the sofa, expecting a furious reaction from his lover.

"And _what_. Did you _say_. To her."

Flack shifted until their noses touched, never once breaking eye contact. The shorter detective couldn't glance away even if he tried. The taller man had a stare that mesmerized anything it fell upon.

"I told her …" Danny's tongue flitted out, running over his lower lip. "Told her … I was _spoken for_."

He tentatively reached out to enclose one hand around Flack's impressive erection.

"_Big time_." Danny bit his lip, then flashed the other man his patented, winning grin. He slowly pumped his hand up and down the engorged appendage, fingers slippery from the lubricant on the condom.

For a minute or two, all Flack did was loom over him, staring at him with those big, beautiful eyes. Flack displayed no outward reaction to Danny's administrations, other than the pupils of his eyes widening. Danny never failed to be awed by the other detective's discipline over his body and everything else about himself. It was just one of the many things about the gorgeous homicide detective that turned Danny on so badly.

Danny stroked the pad of his thumb across the tip of Flack's rigid cock.

Flack shoved himself away from the couch and Danny's grasp, standing upright. The taller man's pale and flushed skin glistened under the ceiling lights of the living area.

The CSI's pink tongue flitted out once more. The aching need between his legs became even more intense at the sight of nude, sweaty Flack gazing down at him like the guy wanted to eat him up for dessert. Danny stroked himself, breaths becoming quicker. God, he was the luckiest sonofabitch alive.

"_Geddup_."

Danny stood up on wobbly legs, rubbing at his lower belly with both hands. He hoped Flack didn't notice how much his legs were quivering.

Suddenly, he was struck by the prodigious need to say those few words he'd always wanted to say.

"Don … I …"

"It's okay. _I know_." Flack's gaze had softened dramatically, filled with a prevailing emotion that threatened to overcome Danny and make him behave in a really unmasculine way.

The gentle kiss on Danny's lips was a stark contrast to what he was experiencing mere moments ago. It made his mind reel. In a weird but mild way.

"Did I hurt ya?" The taller man's hands were fondling the roundness of his bottom.

Danny smirked, dragging down Flack's head for another yielding kiss. "S'nothin' compared to our sex marathon after the last World Cup match."

"Hell, _yeah_, you _Italian_ _horndog_," Flack said with an amused chuckle against Danny's lips. "If I knew seein' Italy play and win would turn ya into a friggin' _sex maniac_ … I'd have planned our last holiday to Italy instead of San Francisco."

The CSI laughed, reflexively arching his body into Flack's touch. "I'd say that was a very … educational trip."

Danny sent the other man a meaningful look from beneath his eyelids.

The homicide detective's blue eyes were rekindling with palpable desire. "_Oh_ _yeaah_."

Danny's eyelids fluttered. Flack had pushed two fingers into him, scissoring them. He rubbed his body against his lover's, reveling in smooth skin and the velvety body hair across Flack's broad chest. Danny traced the treasure trail that ran downwards from the other man's navel to his -

The shorter detective moaned and shuddered when Flack's fingers went deeper, brushing against his prostate. One of Danny's hands enveloped itself around Flack's erection on impulse.

Oh, wow. Maybe it was all just in his head, but it sure felt like the guy was even bigger and harder than before.

"Oh, we ain't done yet, Messer." Flack grinned widely. "Not until you're comin' so _hard_ that you're screamin' yer _lungs_ out."

Danny couldn't say a word in response. His cock, however, had the perfect comeback. It jerked against Flack's flat belly. And the taller man felt it without doubt.

Still grinning, Flack's tongue snaked out to lick at his upper lip. The man made a predatory sound, then slowly pulled out his fingers.

"_Mine_."

Danny gasped. The possessiveness in his lover's voice should be alarming him. It didn't. All he knew was that it sounded … right. He couldn't imagine anyone else in the world saying the same thing to him. But Flack, Flack was different.

He touched Flack's cheek, gazing into the taller detective's wide eyes.

"_Yours_," Danny whispered huskily, lips moving against Flack's own, parted ones.

The sun-bright smile that lit Flack's crinkled features said more than all the words in the universe could.

Flack resumed kissing Danny as he guided the shorter man around to the back of the couch. The fact that they didn't bang into a single object was something of a testament to Danny how accustomed Flack was to his apartment.

Or was it _their_ apartment by now?

Danny was made to face the back of the couch, so he also faced the television in front of the couch and coffee table.

"Bend over."

The CSI quietly acquiesced, bending down at the hips until his palms were touching the cushions he knelt on minutes before, his legs straight and his buttocks high in the air. Danny was glad he had socks on. The cool floor of his living room under his feet would be making his lean body tremble more than it was already.

"Spread yer legs."

Danny sucked in a stuttering breath, then did so. His legs moved into an inverted v-shape, opening out and exposing his nether regions for Flack's clear view. He ended up on tiptoes.

"Now … that's what I call a fuckin' gorgeous sight, right there." Flack stood behind him, pushing his dress shirt away to stroke his lower back. The homicide detective's condom-covered cock slid between his butt cheeks.

Danny's arms began to quiver. "Don. _Please_."

He heard Flack take a deep breath.

"If Monroe's ever _stupid_ enough to come after you again …" The taller man positioned himself at the entrance to Danny's body. "_This_ is what I'm gonna show her."

Flack thrust in, not stopping until his thighs made contact with the back of Danny's. The shorter detective's strident yell echoed in the apartment. This was the first time they'd ever done it in this particular position, and it was _mind-blowing_.

Danny felt hands around his neck, loosening his tie and removing it. He blinked, trying his best to not hyperventilate from the overwhelming pleasure suffusing his body. His upper body fell further forward over the back of the couch after Flack grabbed at his forearms and … What the? Was Flack tying his wrists up -

Another thrust drove whatever coherent thought Danny had left out of his brain. He choked on what he knew was going to be a vociferous scream, biting his lower lip hard to maintain the final remnants of control. Strained against the bonds tight around his wrists.

If Mrs. Penrose came around banging on his front door again thanks to his irrepressible screaming, he was going to force Flack to open it. In the nude. Without the benefit of hiding behind the door.

That is, if he survived the oncoming tsunami of Flack goodness first.

"Who do you belong to, Danny?" Flack withdrew. Plunged in to the hilt.

Danny could only answer with a throaty cry.

"Who do you belong to?" It was astounding how Flack could piston his hips that way and still talk without sounding like he was fucking his lover into the sofa.

The CSI couldn't move due to his current position. All he could do was lie bowed over the back of the couch, taking everything Flack was giving to him and more. With his arms now tied behind his back, he was finding it somewhat difficult to breathe. White starbursts started to pop up behind his lowered eyelids. The friction of his hard, throbbing cock against the couch's surface was nearly unbearable.

"_Who do you belong to? Tell me!_"

He could sense his orgasm was close, so fucking close …

"_You!_" Danny cried out, blue eyes scrunched shut, fingers digging into the pillow. "I belong to _you!_"

Wait … weren't his wrists …

Danny's eyes snapped open.

Oh, fuck.

He released a heartfelt groan, burying his face into the pillow he'd been hugging all this time.

That had been simply a memory. A fucking outstanding one, but nonetheless, a memory. Danny reluctantly rolled onto his side, moaning softly at the undeniable ache that was tenting his track pants.

A memory that had just made his night a whole lot more agonizing.

_Fuck_.

He stared at the ceiling through half-closed, unhappy eyes. He honestly felt like bawling his eyes out.

It'd never been like this before.

He was a guy who had plenty of girlfriends, and the odd boyfriend here and there. And he'd never, _ever_ suffered like this whenever he had no sex at the time he was with them. Not even when he didn't get any for weeks at a time.

_Ah hah_, a voice in his head said, _but this time, there's so much more to things than mere sex now, isn't there?_

Danny went back to lying on his side and curled up into a fetal position, obviously paying no heed to the hardness between his legs.

Damnit, why did his brain have to go all - all _brainy_ on him now?

He wanted to go back to that moment in time, when Flack was thrusting so _deep_ and _hard_ inside him, and making him come over and over and -

Letting out an exasperated roar, he lunged to his feet and stormed to his bedroom, carrying the two pillows that had been on the sofa with him. He threw himself onto the bed, inadvertently writhing and rubbing himself on the silky covers. The real and pleasurable stimulation on his groin now was almost as good as him using his hands to jerk himself off.

His sinuous wriggling intensified, as well as his moans and whimpers. It was okay, right? Flack wasn't going to blame him if he orgasmed this way, right? After all, it wasn't stated in the rules that he couldn't -

Right there and then, his mobile phone rang.

Danny immediately became stock-still.

His phone had settings where he could specify individual ringtones to different people in his phonebook.

And the one playing was Flack's.

Danny twisted his head to stare at the vibrating cel phone on the bedside table. His fingers wound themselves into the bed covers, his breaths coming out in soft pants. He was suddenly very aware of the dampness at the crotch of his track pants. Shit, so _close_ to going over the edge.

The CSI licked his lips. Yeah, _that's_ it. Maybe listening to Flack's voice would do it. And the guy couldn't blame him if he did come just from listening to Flack talk. Nothing about _that_ in the rules.

Danny scrambled on the bed to the bedside table and picked up his ringing mobile phone.

"Don?" Man, his voice was _hoarse_. How much had he been screaming before?

It was silent on the other side of the line for a moment.

Then Danny heard the faint, quickened breathing of his lover.

"I _know_ what you're doin'," Flack rasped in a guttural voice. "Rubbin' yerself all over the place _is_ considered masturbation."

The shorter detective's hand curled into a fist. _Fuck_, how the hell did he _know_ -

Flack's breaths increased in pace for a couple of seconds. Danny could virtually sense Flack forcing himself to breathe slower.

"So. _Don't_. Even. _Think_ 'bout it."

The line went dead.

Danny took the phone away from his ear and stared at the device with wide eyes.

He … _That_ … Why, that freaking _sonofabi_-

Danny flung his cel phone away, pulling at his tousled hair and screaming out his ire for all it was worth. He didn't even give a shit that he was behaving precisely like a spoilt brat while he pounded his fists and kicked his feet into the mattress, howling his dissatisfaction into one of the pillows on his bed.

How _dare_ he! How _dare _Flack say that to him when the asshole was probably doing it _himse_-

His mobile phone was ringing again. And again, it was his lover.

Danny glared with searing eyes at the stupid thing that was vibrating less than two feet away from him, teetering on the edge of the bed.

_Hell_ no, he was _not _going to answer it. Flack could go fuck himself.

Danny shut his eyes and let his head drop onto the pillow, face obscured. Oh no, _nononono_, he didn't need _that _imagery right now. He whined, bunching the pillow around his head. Flack _was_ long enough that he could do it, oh _fuck_ -

The ringing tone had stopped playing.

He raised his head from the pillow and glanced at his silver and orange colored phone with hazy eyes. Waited for a while.

Sure enough, a buzzing noise told Danny that Flack had left him a voice message.

Six minutes passed with Danny mulling over in silence whether to listen to it or not. Flack sounded pretty short of breath on the phone just now. Maybe the guy was as tormented by sexual frustration as he was. Maybe he wanted to give another friendly piece of advice about frigging _masturbation_. Maybe he wanted to persuade Danny into calling off the challenge again. Maybe -

Danny sighed. Well, brooding about it wasn't going to enlighten him anytime soon.

He stretched out his hand to pluck his phone up before it plummeted over the side of the bed and broke to pieces on the floor or something. Then, he set it to speaker mode, and opened up the voice mail message he received.

Danny lay on his side with two pillows beneath his head, unable to halt himself from smiling as Flack's resonant voice floated to his ears.

"You drive me _insane_, ya know that? _Hahn?_ Danny?"

Danny's tender smile turned into a smirk.

Flack sighed, then continued his voice message.

"I dunno how yer day went … I hope it went better than _mine _did, that's fer sure. Got to chase a perp this mornin' … _boy_, it felt good to tackle him."

The CSI cackled.

"Yeah, you'd know that, wouldn't ya? Never realized how much energy we actually spend makin' love until we … couldn't do it anymore."

Danny's toes curled at the _L_ word.

"So, _yeah_, Hawkes and I were down at Times Square after the case was wrapped up, and guess what? I got mistaken by Japanese tourists as one of them … them … whaddaya call 'em again? _Human statues? _Ya know, like that silver guy ya investigated last year with Aiden. And I was standin' there like a dumbass, and accordin' to what Hawkes said, he told them I _was _one a' them human statue acts … and they started snappin' photos a' me!"

Danny laughed a second time. Damn, he'd have _loved_ to have been there to see _that_.

"Geez, talk 'bout embarrassin'." Flack guffawed softly. "Heh. Least I earned 'bout a hundred bucks from it. Them Japanese people are _pretty_ generous folks, I tell ya."

The homicide detective paused for a moment.

"Ya know the reason I was so outta it? I was _fantasizin'_. 'Bout _you_."

Danny's eyes closed.

"Yeah, it was _crazy_ … you were … _everywhere_. It didn't matter where I went or what I was doin' … you were always there." There were rustling sounds, as if Flack was on his bed and wriggling around. "And you were always _naked_. _Yeah_. It was like havin' _wet dreams _while I was _awake_ or somethin'. You have no idea what a bad case a' _blue balls _I've had since we went our separate ways this mornin'."

Ohh, Danny _indubitably_ had a good idea what his lover had gone through today. At least it seemed that he did a much better job of hiding his frustrations from Stella than Flack had from the perceptive Hawkes. However, he really should have been smarter than to suggest getting Chinese take out for lunch. Watching Stella sucking up noodles from the white carton was total torture. The head bobbing perfectly mimicked Flack's head bobbing up and down as the man went down on his -

"I dunno why you want this, Danny … I dunno why, but I know there's a good reason for it. There always is. Ya don't do things for no reason. I _know_ you."

The CSI opened his eyes to slit, gazing at his mobile phone as it carried on playing Flack's voice message.

"I just hope it's worth killin' me for, babe, 'cos I'm _dyin'_ here." Flack said hoarsely, and released a wavering chuckle. "So … _yeah_ …"

The taller detective fell silent, although Danny could still hear him breathing.

"So, yeah … _I _… I'll see ya tomorrow."

There was more silence. Then Flack swallowed audibly.

Danny got up on his elbows, breath held in. Flack wanted to say something else, he was _sure_ of it -

"_I miss you_."

A second later, the voice message ended.

It took Danny a while to pick up his mobile phone again to set it back to stand by mode. His blue eyes were stinging for some reason. He rubbed them with the back of his hand.

All of a sudden, he didn't care about getting off anymore.

He wanted Flack. And Flack couldn't be there with him because not being able to touch each other was driving them both nuts.

He left his phone next to the pillows on the bed, and opened up the dark blue blanket that was folded at the end of the bed, swathing himself in it. It smelt faintly of Flack. He tugged the blanket up until his nose was covered, his half-closed eyes peeking over the edge. The scent comforted him.

Danny sighed heavily. It was his own fault. He started it, and he was going to see it to the finish line. Even if it killed him. If they couldn't even keep a short-term agreement like this … how was he ever going to believe things would last between them?

He got his mobile phone in hand and pressed a few buttons on it.

And if he spent the night snuggled up on his bed, listening to Flack's soothing, murmured words over and over again, no one else was there to rag him for it.


	5. Part 5

**One Week**

Fandom: CSI:NY

Author: Kimmychu

Rating: FRAO (we're talkin' Karma Sutra-rating here)

Pairing: Danny/Flack

Content Warning: Major sexual tension, Flack-snark overload, dirty thoughts. Lotsa dirty thoughts.

Spoilers: Meh, nothing important, but to be safe, post Season 2.

Summary: Danny and Flack love to dance the horizontal tango. Everyday. Three times a day. And night. But one day, Flack says yes, and Danny says no. What will Flack the sex maniac do when his lover gives him the ultimatum of no sex … for one whole week?

Disclaimer: YES, THEY BELONG TO ME - I mean, why, of course not, they're just fictional … hot … characters. Mmm, hot.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Author's Notes: Waaagh, I am sick from flu. Therefore, my apologies if this part reads strangely in any way. Real life has been getting awfully busy these days too, hence the slower updates. And really, I'm not holding out on you guys! If you've seen my fanimations on my homepage, you may find the final paragraphs of this part to be quite familiar. _-g- _

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

**vi. Samputa**

"I'm telling you, Mac, _something's_ going on between the two of them."

Mac sighed inwardly. His thin eyebrows were raised, hazel eyes narrowed.

"Flack and Danny are _sooooo_ doing it!"

Oh boy, Stella was at it _again_.

"Stella. It's _very_ possible for a man to have a purely _platonic_ relationship with another man, you know."

Stella lifted one of her eyebrows and smirked at him. "Yeah, _you'd_ know that, wouldn't you, ex-_Marine_ man?"

Mac endeavored his best to keep a straight countenance in the face of Stella's apparent excitement. There were very few people in the world who could openly tease Mac Taylor and get away with it alive. There were even fewer people in the world who could make him smile. And there were even _less_ people in the world who could make his heart skip a beat or two with a smile of their own.

And the beautiful Greek woman, attired in a jade-colored tank top and black trousers, who stood next to his office table was one who could do all three.

Possibly the _only_ one now.

Little butterflies began their habitual dance in his belly again.

He sighed inwardly a second time. Not that he was going to tell her anytime soon.

Bright, morning sunlight streamed through his office windows, saturating the colors of the room and everything in it. His CSI partner appeared especially vibrant under the sunshine, a soft halo surrounding her, her green eyes gleaming. She looked almost angelic.

Well. As angelic as a woman hell-bent on proving to him two male members of his staff were in a secret … _relationship_.

"Look! I'm not _seeing_ things!" Stella huffed, slapping the light brown, case folder in hand down on the table in her enthusiasm. "I mean, have you _noticed_ how much Flack _stares_ at him?"

Mac did some bemused staring of his own, blinking twice at her.

He liked Stella when she used to be more sane.

"It's _true! _Flack stares at Danny _all _the time!" She gesticulated passionately with her arms. "If he's not staring at the guy's _face_, he's either giving him a whole body look over, or he's staring at Danny's _butt_."

Mac's eyebrows shot high up on his forehead.

"Yes! His. _Butt_."

The corners of the ex-Marine's lips twitched visibly, but he said nothing. Wow, wait till Flack or Danny heard about _this_.

"Okay. _Okay_. We'll wait until they get here, and _then_, you can see for yourself." Stella half-sat on the edge of his table, folding her arms over her chest and gazing at him smugly. "You'll see. I _know_ I'm right."

Mac finally grinned and shrugged his shoulders in a blasé manner. "Okay, Stella. Whatever you say."

His Greek partner's large eyes instantly narrowed in suspicion, one corner of her red lips upturned in a wry smile. "_Hey_. You're supposed to have some sarcastic comeback so _I_ can go on with my theories on how I'm sure Flack and Danny are doing it and _convince_ you."

"Which is why I'm _not_," Mac said, looking at the case folders in front of him on his desk and not at Stella. He'd gotten it drilled into his brain the first time Stella brought up the issue. Who would have figured she was capable of going on and on about Flack and Danny being an item for over _three hours?_ And he wasn't _that _crazy to stare into those green eyes when Stella was on a mission. One sultry glance from those eyes was nearly sufficient to put him on his knees. And more.

Stella began to reply, then seemed to think better of it. Mac could sense she was dying to stick her tongue out at him. He kept his gaze on the top folder as he opened it up. _Huh_. One of his eyebrows lifted at the location of that particular murder, and it took all his willpower to not grin.

It was going to be an _interesting_ day for a couple of his CSIs.

"_Yes! _There they are!"

He felt a soft poke on his upper arm.

"Mac! C'mon, _look!_"

Mac shot a pointed stare at Stella, who smiled too innocently at him. "If I do this, will you promise to never bug me about 'Flack and Danny _doing_ it' _ever_ again?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die." Stella drew a quick cross with her right forefinger across the left side of her chest.

"Show me your _other_ hand." The hazel-eyed CSI smirked.

Stella rolled her eyes, but she was also smirking while she moved her left arm and hand into view. "See? No crossed fingers."

His smirk broadened. "How do I know you didn't uncross your fingers before showing them to me?"

The Greek woman threw up her hands and let out an annoyed sound. "_Mac! _Just. _Look!_"

He chuckled quietly, face crinkled. Stella looked damn gorgeous when she was mad. He glanced through the glass walls at the two detectives striding down the hallway towards his office.

Flack and Danny were walking side by side, appearing like their usual neat and professional selves. The homicide detective had a dark grey jacket on, with a plain, white dress shirt and a red striped tie. His trousers were a similar shade of grey. Danny was wearing a short-sleeved black top with an unbuttoned Mandarin collar, and a pair of faded jeans with cuffs that almost dragged on the floor and partially covered his boots. Mac thought the whole outfit flattered the bespectacled man well.

It seemed Flack felt the same way too.

Mac angled his head to one side. No, Flack wasn't walking beside Danny, he was walking a step or two _behind_ the man. And … no way. _No way_. Mac's eyes widened. The homicide detective _couldn't_ be sneaking glances at Danny's _butt_.

Mac blinked many times. _Naaah_, he was simply imagining things, that's all. Stella's ideas were getting to his head.

Danny suddenly halted in his steps in the middle of the hallway, turning his head in Flack's direction and gazing sharply at the other man. Flack skidded to a stop too, returning the shorter detective's stare with equal fervor. They stood there, facing each other in silence as lab technicians in white coats sauntered past them. Except, from the tangible emotion in the two detectives' eyes, Mac could virtually tell a conversation of a thousand unsaid words was going on between them.

After a minute more of quiet staring, Flack said something, his handsome visage in a frown. Danny bit his lip, looked away for a moment, then replied. The CSI's shoulders were hunched, one hand rubbing distractedly along his other forearm. Whatever they were discussing, it was an issue that was making Danny behave as if he was guilty of something.

Danny's response caused the frown on Flack's mien to deepen. The homicide detective glanced away to one side, his face obscured from Mac's view for a moment. Flack's fisted hands were on his hips. It was a rare pose for the tall detective to strike, one that Mac had only beheld whenever Flack was under a lot of stress.

Then, Flack revolved his head to gaze Danny in the eye once more. And the evident distress on Flack's face was more than enough to make Mac's spine stiffen. What could possibly have brought such _pain_ to the man?

Flack seemed to be pleading to Danny, his large hands waving about. The CSI merely stared at the other detective, blue eyes wide and poignant. When Danny remained silent, Flack took a step forward.

Mac unconsciously released a muted, inquisitive sound from between pursed lips as he continued to observe the two men's interactions.

Now, Flack was standing _very_ near to the CSI, his face inches away from the shorter detective's.

The ex-Marine slowly drummed the tips of his fingers on the smooth surface of his desk. He knew Danny was hardly fond of people getting so physically close, especially as close as Flack was right now. Was his protégé going to react badly to this invasion of his personal space?

Mac held his breath.

He watched Danny's tongue flit out.

Flack stretched out one hand towards Danny's arm.

Danny's lips began to part.

And all of a sudden, the homicide detective leapt backwards in a panic, shoving his hands deep into his jacket pockets. Danny had also taken a step or two backwards, nervously rubbing at his forearms more than ever. The CSI's face was red. Interestingly, so was Flack's.

A corner of Mac's lips curled up.

Maybe … _just_ maybe, Stella might have a point about the two detectives.

Flack's head whipped from side to side to check if anyone had seen what happened. Those blue eyes made contact with Mac's own hazel ones. For an split second, Mac saw alarm in Flack's wide eyes. Then it vanished, replaced with a shuttered expression.

Mac shifted his gaze onto Danny. Danny wasn't as skilled at concealing his emotions as Flack was, and Mac clearly perceived the terror in his protégé's eyes.

_So_. Was he going to insinuate in some way that he'd witnessed the unusually intimate behavior between the two detectives? Or was he going to pretend like he didn't see a thing for the sake of everyone's sanity?

Mac made his choice.

He picked up one of the case folders on his table, hoisted it up in the air and pointed at it impatiently.

Flack seemed to recompose himself rapidly, brushing at his suit jacket, acting cool. Danny was still casting worried glances in Mac's direction, although he appeared much more relieved. Mac struggled not to smirk. He privately wondered how the two younger men would react to finding out Stella believed they were having some secret love affair. _Heh_.

The glass door of his office opened.

"Good morning, _gentlemen_," Mac said as Danny and Flack entered the room. "Nice of you to finally join us."

"Sorry, Mac. Traffic jam," Flack replied. "Hey, Stell."

Danny said his own greetings to his fellow CSIs, going to stand next to the homicide detective in front of Mac's office desk. The blue-eyed CSI was behaving more hyperactive than normal. In fact, the younger detective could barely stay motionless for more than a few seconds. One moment he was scratching at his neck or arm. The next moment he was either frenetically beating fingers against his thighs or tapping a staccato with his boots on the floor.

As soon as Danny commenced a mini-concert of simultaneous drumming fingers and feet, Flack decided to put a stop to it with a stealthy kick to Danny's shin.

Which compelled Danny to gift Flack with a similarly surreptitious kick in the same portion of the homicide detective's leg.

Which, in turn, encouraged Flack to return said kick with a harder kick.

Which drove Danny to let loose another, even _harder_ kick.

And Flack claimed victory for the round with a powerful stomp on Danny's foot.

The bespectacled CSI's surprised, mouse-like squeak resounded in Mac's office.

Mac's scrutinizing gaze flitted in suspicion from Danny's face to Flack's and back.

"Are you two done?"

Flack straightened up, cleared his throat and crossed his wrists in front of him. "Yes, sir."

Danny kept quiet, nibbling on his lower lip, looking everywhere aside from Mac.

The ex-Marine stared meaningfully at them, eyebrows high in curiosity.

"Is there _something_ you'd like to _tell_ us?"

Danny and Flack stared at him with dumbfounded expressions for a few moments, then stared at each other with wide eyes. Then they went back to staring at him.

Mac leaned forward, palms flat on the table. "_Weeeeell?_"

"Uhm …" Flack peered uncertainly at Danny from the corner of his eyes.

"Nah, everythin's fine." Danny shrugged.

The homicide detective got his cue and added, "Yeah, _nothin's_ goin' on, Mac. Nothin' ta worry 'bout." He grinned. It looked more like a grimace.

Mac carried on casting upon them his patented _I-do-not-accept-any-insolence-from-my-subordinates_ stare.

Flack cleared his throat a second time, tugging at his sleeve cuffs. Danny started scratching at his neck again, rocking on his heels. The CSI was sending Stella a furtive, beseeching look for help. Mac took a quick glance at her. She stood beside his office desk, facing towards the other two detectives, one hand cupped over her mouth. Even so, he could tell from the way her eyes were crinkled that she had a humongous smile on her beautiful face.

When she realized he was gazing at her, she took away her hand and gave him a self-satisfied look that said, "_Seeee? _I _told_ you, didn't I?"

Mac was wise enough to not say anything. For now.

"Whatever's going on between you two, _deal _with it. As _soon_ as possible." Mac sat down on his leather-bound chair behind his desk. "I will _not_ have my detectives acting like _three-year-old children_."

Neither Flack or Danny said anything in response, but stood where they were quietly with their heads somewhat bowed. Danny had gone from scratching his heck to scratching the side of his head and rearranging his spectacles higher up his nose. Mac was aware as well that the younger CSI had a habit of doing this whenever the man felt sincerely contrite, and was fairly assuaged the two detectives were going to behave themselves. For now.

His office door opened once more.

"Lindsay, Hawkes," Mac addressed the two CSIs who'd come into his office. "Good of you to join us."

"Good morning," Hawkes answered, going to stand near Stella. The former ME was dressed in a round-collared, long-sleeved shirt and khaki trousers, and based on the guy's wide yawn, he probably hadn't slept in a while.

Lindsay also appeared like she hadn't snoozed in the last twenty-four hours either. However, she was prim and proper in a simple, v-necked top and dark green trousers. and she kept blinking as she stood next to Danny, sniffing once. Then she turned her head to gaze at Danny.

"Hey, Danny." She smiled.

"Hey, Linds."

Out of the blue, Mac heard a strange and low growling sound, like that of a ferocious tiger's.

Puzzled, he looked at each of the four detectives standing in front of his desk, starting with Hawkes from the right. The dark-skinned man was absent-mindedly rubbing at one of his eyes. Nope, it wasn't him. Mac looked at Lindsay next, who was sneaking quick looks at Danny. No, it wasn't coming from her either. He looked at Danny. No, it wasn't the bespectacled CSI, who stared at Flack with a slight frown from the corner of his eyes.

A _very_ angry Flack who was giving Lindsay the ultimate evil eye. And he _did_ look like a ferocious blue-eyed tiger.

Mac's eyebrows shot up his forehead again. They were getting a workout of a lifetime this morning.

"Flack."

The homicide detective kept on glowering at the newest addition to the team over Danny's head, eyes narrowed to slits and lips in a thin line. He didn't respond to Mac calling him. Did the man even _hear_ him?

"_Flack!_"

Danny grabbed the opportunity to exact revenge by stamping hard on Flack's closest foot.

The taller man yelled at the abrupt pain of Danny's boot crushing his shoe and toes.

"_OWWW!_"

Mac thought that Flack hopping around like a rabbit on one foot was one of the funnier sights of the week. It certainly didn't help that everybody else in the room were trying hard not to crack up or were gawking at Flack attempting to retaliate with a similar action on Danny's feet. This was such bizarre behavior from the homicide detective that Mac was at a loss for words. On the outside, he was his regular stoic self. On the inside, he was extremely amused. He hadn't been _this_ entertained in ages.

It took him a moment to speak seriously to the two troublemakers of the day.

"Would you both like a private room? I'd be _more_ than happy to arrange for one with white, padded walls."

Flack was standing motionless once more, deliberately looking away from everyone and out the windows behind Mac. His face was flushed. He muttered under his breath, "I'd like it much better if it had a white, king-sized _bed_ instead."

Flack's comment was uttered faint enough that only he and Danny caught it.

Danny elbowed Flack in the side, scowling at the taller man.

For probably the hundredth time that morning, one of Mac's eyebrows lifted in disbelief.

The hazel-eyed CSI steepled his fingers on his desk, patiently waiting until all his detectives had settled down. Stella had her arms crossed over her chest, her red lips twitching in amusement at Danny's and Flack's earlier antics. Hawkes had his hands in his trouser pockets, glancing once in a while at the other two male detectives with curious, brown eyes. Lindsay was looking at the open case folder on his desk, a sheepish smile on her features. Danny stood with his legs spread, arms crossed in front of him, brows furrowed in a deep frown. And Flack … Mac wasn't sure how to describe the weird expression on the lanky detective's visage.

He merely hoped Flack wasn't going to strangle Danny the second they got out of his office.

"_Okay_," Mac said in a voice that brooked no more disruptions. "Your _cases_."

He shut the folder he was reading before and handed it over to Danny.

"Danny, Lindsay, Flack, you'll be working on this one." He then motioned to the folder Stella had in hand before the other detectives came into his office. "Hawkes, you'll work with me and Stella on the Prospect Park case."

"So it's true?" Hawkes said. "You know … about D'Anda and Jones? And Ramos and Carter?"

"Yeah," Stella said, stifling a snicker.

Hawkes grimaced in sympathy.

"What _'bout_ them?" Danny asked. The folder he gripped with both hands was still closed.

"Believe me, you don't want to know," Stella replied with a smirk. "Let's just say, our fellow detectives won't be going back to Taco Bell for their _spicy chicken burrito _anytime soon."

Everyone except Mac grimaced and released a dismayed noise at the statement. He was too busy making an effort not to laugh at the other detectives' unanimous reaction.

"So we workin' on their cases now?"

"Yes, Danny, only temporarily until they get back from sick leave. Since our cases were wrapped up yesterday, I saw no reason not to help out." Mac leaned back in his chair, resting his forearms on the armrests. "We need to finish collecting forensic evidence from both crime scenes. Flack, there're still a few witnesses D'Anda hasn't interviewed. Their names and info are in the case file."

"No problem."

Flack angled his body towards the CSI, and Danny automatically opened up the folder in hand to scan over the case details.

Now, it was Danny's turn to yell.

Actually, it was more of a shrill shriek that caused everyone to revolve their heads to gape at the bespectacled, brown-haired man.

"Is there something wrong, Danny?" The corners of Mac's lips curled up.

"I … uh … Mac?" The younger CSI sputtered for a minute, his face tomato red. "Are ya - are ya _sure _the location of the crime scene is, ah, _correct?_"

Mac could see Danny forcing himself to calm down, even smiling nervously at him. Mac's lips twitched. Okay, seeing Danny flustered about _this_ was much more entertaining than Flack bouncing like a wired bunny.

"Yes, it's correct."

Danny's lips moved, but there was no sound emitting from between them for a couple of moments. "But -but the crime scene is _outside_, right?"

"No, it's inside the store." The ex-Marine flashed a very uncommon, teasing grin. "In their _dildo stock room_."

The homicide detective standing next to the flabbergasted Danny suddenly went into a severe coughing and choking fit, bent forward while he slapped at his own chest to catch his breath. If Mac didn't know any better, it sounded like Flack was doing a terrible job of veiling his laughter under all that coughing.

Mac's answer prompted Danny to sputter even more, eyes wide in something akin to terror.

"Why, Danny, I didn't realize you had a phobia of … dildos." Mac was in a playful mood today. It wasn't everyday that he got a Flack on the verge of cracking up like a madman or a Danny looking like a teenager who'd been caught doing something very naughty.

"I …" Danny gulped.

Flack was standing upright again, taking deep breaths and smacking a fist against his sternum. The guy's mien was dark red from exertion, his pink lips pursed closed and downturned. Mac could literally see the muscles spasming in the lower half of Flack's face.

"Do _you_ have a phobia of dildos as well, Flack?" Mac asked in an offhand manner.

Stella hid a snicker behind a tiny cough. Hawkes stared at Flack and Danny with an amused expression. Lindsay appeared to be utterly baffled by her co-workers' peculiar behavior.

"Nope." Flack sniffed, holding his head high. "I ain't threatened by them things … I'm a _perfect nine_, if ya know what I mean."

"_Okaaay_, too much information," Lindsay murmured. She seemed to be too embarrassed to look at the homicide detective.

"Don, _please_, do feel free to _elaborate_." Stella grinned, pearly teeth gleaming.

Flack grinned back and winked, face crinkled.

"_Well_, Danny, do you have a problem with working on this case?" Mac swiftly asked his protégé before things got out of hand in his office.

All eyes fell on the crimson-faced CSI.

Danny bit his lower lip.

A humorous, guffaw-like noise escaped Flack's clammed up mouth like the sound of air leaking out of a balloon.

Danny shot the taller man a deadly glare, then glanced at Mac with a determined look.

"No, I got no problem." The bespectacled man rocked calmly on his heels, lips puckered. Then he glowered at Flack once more, from the corners of his blue eyes.

Flack stood silently where he was, staring ahead at nothing in particular. There were still muscle tics here and there along the man's lower jaw.

"Good." Mac waved in the direction of the door. "Off you go."

Lindsay was the first to head for the open office door, glancing back at Mac with a tentative look. For a second, Mac pondered whether the newest member of his staff would feel uncomfortable being surrounded by tons of sex toys in one of New York city's largest sex shops. He shook off his doubts. _Nah_. There _had_ to be sex shops like those in Montana too.

Danny and Flack went next, the shorter detective obviously swaggering for show and the homicide detective following a _little_ too closely for Mac's liking. Or was it just Stella's outrageous notions planting things in his head again?

"I'm going to get my kit. Meet you in the car park?" Hawkes said.

Mac nodded.

"Okay." The former ME exited the office.

The hazel-eyed CSI got to his feet, putting on his jacket that he'd draped over the back of his chair. Stella watched him doing so with half-lidded eyes, a little smile on her fine-looking face.

"You. Are. _Evil_."

Mac grinned at her. "I learnt from the best, didn't I?"

She laughed, a rich, evocative sound.

"You _saw_ it," Stella said.

"Saw what?"

Stella tsked. "Don't act coy with me! You _know_ what I mean."

Mac held up his hands in a mollifying way. "All I saw was two men having a discussion in the hallway about something that was personal. _That's_ all."

"Oh, _c'mon_, don't tell me you didn't notice Flack trying to _kiss_ Danny!"

"Stella." Mac smoothened out his jacket sleeves and gazed at her with a reprimanding look. "You need _help_."

The Greek woman pouted, then said resolutely, "Okay. Tell you what. I bet you three hundred bucks Flack and Danny are doing it."

Mac choked on his breath and gaped at his CSI partner. "_What!_"

"Yeah, you heard me. _Three hundred bucks_." Stella folded her arms over her chest. Her full lips puckered. Mac had the opinion it was very sexy.

"You -"

"Three hundred bucks." Stella smiled wickedly. "If _you_ win, you get the money and a dinner that's my treat. If _I_ win, I get the money and you'll have to treat me to a _nice _dinner. How about that?"

Mac stared blankly at Stella.

Inside his chest, his heart was beating at an exceedingly accelerated pace. It was quite possible it was going to fly right out of his body anytime now.

He couldn't believe it.

He'd just been given the break of a _lifetime_.

Regardless of whether he'd win or lose the bet itself … he was going to be a winner either way.

There really was only one answer to the issued challenge.

Mac's solemn face broke into a vast smile.

"You're on."


	6. Part 6

**One Week**

Fandom: CSI:NY

Author: Kimmychu

Rating: FRAO (we're talkin' Karma Sutra-rating here)

Pairing: Danny/Flack

Content Warning: Major sexual tension, Flack-snark overload, dirty thoughts. Lotsa dirty thoughts.

Spoilers: Meh, nothing important, but to be safe, post Season 2.

Summary: Danny and Flack love to dance the horizontal tango. Everyday. Three times a day. And night. But one day, Flack says yes, and Danny says no. What will Flack the sex maniac do when his lover gives him the ultimatum of no sex … for one whole week?

Disclaimer: YES, THEY BELONG TO ME - I mean, why, of course not, they're just fictional … hot … characters. Mmm, hot.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Author's Notes: Ladies and the rare gentlemen, here's another installment of the story … a _looooong _chapter for you all. It's ironic how I intended this part to be quite short, and it ended up being, well … long. Don't think any of you find that to be a bad thing, eh? Thank you for the kind reviews! I appreciate them. By the way, a certain sex gadget mentioned in this bit? It's a _real _product. Just google it. _Heh_.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

**vii. Aibha**

The gigantic, vibrating dildo in Flack's hands was whirring noisily in tandem with the homicide detective's role-playing frolics.

"Bzzzzt! _Bzzzzzztttt!_"

Flack hopped across the room, swinging his arms around as if he was fighting with an invisible opponent, using the sex gadget as an imaginary light saber.

"_Wwzzzzzzttttt! BZZZTTT!_"

The lanky detective landed with a thump before Danny, pointing the buzzing dildo straight at the spot between Danny's narrowed eyes, inches away from the CSI's frowning visage.

"_Danny_." Flack enveloped his nose and mouth with one hand, making funny breathing sounds. "I … am your _master_." He then thrust his hand towards Danny, took a deep breath and continued talking in that weird and deep, wheezing voice.

"_Join_ me and my _dildo_, and we shall _rule_ the _universe_ …_ togetheeeer_."

Danny glowered at the other man from where he was kneeling on the floor, sealing up evidence bags to be placed into his kit. Damnit, Flack was acting like a hyper, manic two-year-old who had too much sugar in a go. And why did he have to mess around with the most _ridiculous_ looking dildo of all!

"Don't ya have somethin' _better_ to do than _play _with friggin' _dildos?_" Danny ground out between gritted teeth.

The _bastard_. Flack knew how difficult it was for him to just work in that room, surrounded by millions of dildos and sex toys. The jerk was fucking around with him. And _not_ in the way he really wanted the guy to either.

"Nope. Already interviewed everybody." Flack shook the vibrating sex toy like a ragdoll, pouting. "Aww, _c'mon_, Danny, you be Luke Skywalker and I'm Darth Vader. C'mon, you're supposed to do the screaming thing now. Like this!"

Flack stuck the enormous, pulsating dildo between his legs and slapped both hands dramatically onto his cheeks.

"NoooooooooooOOOOOOOOO!"

The sight of the tall homicide detective standing right in front of him with a giant, vibrating dildo sticking out from between the thighs was too much for Danny. He bowed his head into his upturned palms, hiding his face in mortification. Oh shit, he was going to have the image of Flack with a gargantuan, neon-green dick in multi-colored polka dots in his mind for a _looooong_ time.

A gargantuan, neon-green dick in multi-colored polka dots that throbbed like it was dancing to that _Macarena_ song.

Danny shook his head. That was _not_ a pretty vision.

"C'mon, Danny, you're supposed to go, '_Nooooo_, you're _not_ my _fatheeeeeer!_'"

Thank God they were inside a room instead of being outside where _everybody_ could have watched Flack embarrass the hell out of himself.

Danny felt the plastic head of the dildo poking him in the shoulder. Boy, that thing could shake.

"_C'moooooon_, Danny, do it."

The fact that Lindsay was just a few feet away from him and laughing her head off at Flack's antics was _not_ helping. At all.

"Flack, you _were_ telling the truth when you said you weren't phobic to dildos," Lindsay said between amused chortles.

"Damn straight, Monroe. I _loooooooooove_ dildos!" The tall man had the damn thing in his grasp again, flailing it around like an utter nutball and making those silly light saber sound effects.

Flack's ardent declaration jumpstarted Lindsay into another fit of laughter.

Danny pinched at his temple with his thumb and forefinger, resisting the urge to groan. Or pounce Flack where the man was and - He sighed audibly. Watching his lover fooling around with the stupid object was giving him a headache.

Not to mention a hard-on that was well obscured by his jacket.

Being surrounded by so many dildos had given him a semi-erection from the moment he stepped into the sex store's stock room. It was bad enough that the store was one of the largest and most infamous sex shops in the city. But, _noooooo_, they just _had_ to restock all their dildo supplies this very day. Along with new batteries. For _every_ single product.

Flack had snickered like crazy when he practically ran like a bat out of hell from the store's entrance to their dildo stock room where the murder had taken place yesterday. Lindsay, on the other hand, was too busy gaping at most of the items and paraphernalia on display. She probably thought he rushed like that because he was discomfited to be seen there, although he was there on official business. She looked somewhat self-conscious herself, going particularly red at an exhibit of two male mannequins dressed in some very scanty leather bondage costumes.

Danny didn't blame her for her reaction.

After all, he'd responded in pretty much the same way the first time he visited the shop, merely a week after he and Flack became a lot more than just friends.

This was the store where Danny had gotten nearly all his dildos in his present collection. The shop assistants knew him by his first name, knew most of his sexual kinks and, eventually, knew he had a secret boyfriend. Heck, they even knew the exact dildo lengths he enjoyed most and how hard or soft he liked the phallic objects to be.

The good thing was, only the _night_ shift assistants knew him.

Now _that_ was something else to be thankful to God about.

"Do ya _love_ me, Bob? I love _you_."

Danny wrinkled his nose at Flack now playing with two more regular-sized dildos, making them talk to each other. However, one of them was a normal, pale orange color, while the other was bright blue and semi-transparent. And apparently, the bright blue one was called Bob.

"I _do_, Mary Jane, I _really_ do. But we come from such different worlds, you and I. Things could never work out between us."

Flack rubbed the two dildos against each other, making kissy noises.

Danny rolled his eyes.

Lindsay giggled, her face red from laughing so much.

"Okay … _okay_." She struggled to her feet, plucking up her kit and a large brown paper bag that carried a black, strapped-on dildo and harness with blood spatter on it.

Danny wondered silently whether she had any fun dusting it for prints.

"I'm going to bring this stuff out." She suddenly looked thoughtfully at Flack, her eyes narrowed but a tiny smile curving up her lips.

"Danny … you'll be alright on your own?" Lindsay said in a good-humored manner. "I'm not going to have to pick up a giant dildo and fight Darth Flacker here, am I?"

"_Darth_ _Flacker_." Flack made a comical face of contemplation. "I _like_ that."

"Yeah, I'll be fine." Danny smirked snidely at the other man, crossing his arms over his chest. "I can take _Dumb_ Flacker here with one arm tied 'hind my back any time."

Lindsay laughed under her breath, shaking her head in amusement. "Okay then, I'm going." She headed for the stock room's door, then stopped next to Flack.

"You behave yourself." The CSI from Montana smiled mischievously at the homicide detective.

"What are ya on 'bout? I'm _always_ on my best behavior." Flack stuck his lower lip out and brushed at his jacket, putting on an innocent air.

Lindsay glanced back at Danny, smiling at him too.

"Go on," Danny said, waving her off. "I'll be fine. Promise I won't hurt him _too_ bad."

The two men stared silently at each other long after Lindsay left the room, Danny still kneeling on the floor and Flack standing a few feet away, his back facing the half-open door.

With Lindsay gone, Danny felt the tension between them go sky-high.

Goosebumps came out all over his body. Flack was staring at him as if he was going to be the taller man's first meal in a whole _century_. He shuddered once. Then, Danny's hands turned into fists on his lap. _No_, he couldn't cave in now.

"Ya know. I'm thinkin' _reaaaal _hard 'bout turnin' this place into a scene for a _second_ murder," Danny said with narrowed, blazing eyes.

Flack didn't reply. Instead, he took a couple of languid steps backwards, stretching out an arm behind him to shut the stock room door.

"S'funny, Messer. I was thinkin' 'xactly the same thing."

Danny curled his fingers into the hem of his jacket.

The homicide detective's large hand wrapped itself around the knob. "But maybe the kinda _death_ I got planned for _you_ is different from what you're thinkin' for _me_."

The click of the door lock being pressed down was deafening.

Danny gasped. His blue eyes widened.

"The challenge's still on, Don." For some reason, Danny couldn't speak above a whisper.

Flack leaned against the door, running the tip of his tongue across his lower lip. He had that look on his handsome face, that wicked, undeniable look Danny knew so well.

Danny gulped. _Fuck_, he was in trouble.

"I know. I haven't forgotten." Flack lifted one of his hands ands gazed casually at his nails, mien deceptively blank. "Kinda hard to forget when ya wake up in the mornin' … and find yerself _alone_."

Danny closed his eyes, turning his head away. He had no snappy comeback to that. He knew _precisely_ how Flack must have felt this morning.

"See, thing is … In a way, I'm sorta glad ya brought up this _challenge_," Flack said in a low, sensuous tone. He sauntered towards one of the shelves, reaching for one of the dildos he'd been playing with minutes ago.

"Couldn't touch myself, couldn't watch porn … not that I ever watch it anymore since I've been with you. Couldn't rub myself 'gainst anythin'. It drove me crazy all day yesterday." The taller man had the pale orange dildo in hand now, stroking it slowly. "But then, after I called ya and left ya that voice mail … that was when I learnt just how powerful a man's _imagination_ can be, Danny."

Danny licked his lips, mesmerized by Flack's voice and words. His legs had parted slightly. His jeans felt so tight around his groin. He stared at Flack's fingers fondling the sex toy.

"Do ya think 'bout us, Danny?" Flack rubbed the pad of his thumb against the head of the dildo. The man's blue eyes gleamed brightly under the fluorescent lights hanging from the ceiling. "Do ya imagine us, tangled up in that red blanket you love … _slidin'_ 'gainst each other, _slick_ with sweat and saliva … you _moanin'_ in my ear, while I'm deep _inside_ ya?"

The CSI sucked in a harsh breath, winding his fingers into his spiky, brown hair. He scrunched his eyes shut. It didn't work at all in removing the imagery Flack delivered with his seductive words. Danny suddenly yearned to yank down the zip of his jeans and push his hands inside -

"I think 'bout it all the time."

Danny sensed the other man kneeling in front of him. A soft stroke to his face. He brought his hands down to his sides, opening his eyes until they were half-lidded. All Flack did was gently hold his lower jaw with his fingers, and yet, Danny could feel his lover's touch _everywhere_.

"I think 'bout … your eyes, the way they change with your moods. How they can burn like blue flames one instant, and become cool as ice in the next. I think 'bout your mouth … how it stops my world with just a single kiss. A single smile."

Flack inhaled deeply, then exhaled equally so, and gradually.

"I think 'bout … your arms and legs, strong as mine, twining with mine as we move together, wrapped around me … your hands, your _agile_ hands, running through my hair, over my face, my chest … my body." The homicide detective rubbed a thumb over the trimmed bristle on Danny's chin. "I think 'bout _your_ body … how it fits so well with mine, how it twists and arches so gracefully with every caress. How it speaks to me without the need for any words."

Danny swallowed visibly. His breaths were uneven, coming out from between his parted lips in shaky gasps.

"I think 'bout your voice … the way it soothes me when it feels like there's nothin' good left in the world. I think 'bout your laugh, knowin' how it never fails to make me laugh too … I think 'bout … your face. And I'll remember - I'll _remember_ that there really _are_ great wonders left in the world."

His lover's sapphire gaze was so fiery. Filled with something that made Danny's heart palpitate uncontrollably.

"I think … about _you_," Flack murmured quietly, trailing off into an easy silence. The homicide detective smiled at him, a closed-lip, tender smile that shone like the stars gifted to the endless night sky.

It was funny. Even with his eyesight blurred so, Danny could still see how it seemed like the sun rose in Flack's eyes. He never realized what beautiful eyes the taller man had, especially when they were overflowing with that emotion he didn't dare name.

"Don …"

Flack was tilting forward, shifting his face closer and closer to his. Flack was going to kiss him, he knew it. Danny _wanted_ him to, challenge be damned.

The CSI automatically slanted his head to the right, anticipating the familiar suppleness of the other man's lips on his own.

He felt Flack's exhalation brush his lips.

His eyes began to flicker close.

And an unexpected banging on the locked stock room door startled them both.

"Hey, you guys okay in there?"

Flack fell back into a cross-legged, sitting position on the floor, cursing glibly under his breath. He was shielding his face with cupped hands. No doubt the guy had a fierce, angry scowl behind them. The pale orange dildo rolled on the floor next to him.

Danny ran a wobbly hand through his disheveled hair, enfolding his other arm over his abdomen in a defensive manner. Bizarre that he felt like he was completely stripped and exposed, eventhough he was fully clothed and alone with the man who'd seen him naked countless times. Maybe being surrounded by hundreds upon hundreds of dildos in a sex shop's stock room had something to do it. That, and the cop on the other side of the door who was beginning to sound concerned.

"_Hello?_"

Flack chose to speak up first.

"_Yeah_, we're okay. CSI's just packin' up." The taller detective huffed, then added, "We'll be out in a sec."

"Okay. Just checkin'."

Retreating footsteps indicated that he and Flack were alone once more.

Now there was a different kind of tension in the room. The awkward kind that only popped up between them after the one week celibacy challenge was initiated.

Danny scratched nervously at his neck.

Flack was staring at him again.

Danny quickly went to bundling up all the evidence he'd collected that morning, chucking them into his kit in a way that was probably too rough. He nibbled on his lower lip as he did so, avoiding eye contact with the other man.

Shitshit_shit_, that was too close. _Way_ too close.

He slammed the silver and white container shut, and locked it. Danny stared downwards at his hands. His hands were quivering.

Flack was still staring at him.

Okay, deep breath, Messer, Danny thought to himself. _Don't_. Cave. In.

"Dan -"

Danny swiftly got to his feet, evading Flack's grab for his arm. Flack scrambled to his feet as well, attempting a second time to hold Danny with his hands.

"_No_, Don, just … _no_."

He couldn't bear to look Flack in the eye. He was dead certain he'd crumble under that gorgeous, blue stare. He raced for the door, opening it so violently it banged against the wall. He ran out, down the corridor, not waiting to see if Flack followed him or not.

Danny only slowed down when he came into the front and main section of the store, forcing himself to relax and slow his breathing. People would definitely get curious if he walked out of the place looking like he was all flushed and horny. Geez, at least his hard-on was gone.

The bespectacled CSI groaned faintly, pinching at his forehead again. The last thing he needed was for the news to spread that he and Flack might have been doing a lot more than plain investigating in the stock room.

Which would be bad. Because it was _true_.

Danny consciously hunched his shoulders inside his jacket, keeping his head dipped and eyes on the floor. Fuck, he was striding through the accessories aisle that displayed the handcuffs and leather ropes and ties and spanking paddles.

His favorite aisle of all.

He sped up his steps, covering his lower face with a hand. Okay, just ignore the customers, don't worry about the other cops and just keep _walking_ -

"_Daaaaaaanny?_"

Danny skidded to a halt, next to the cashier that was situated near the front entrance of the store. Also the area where most of the other occupants of the shop were right at that very minute.

He bit his lip hard, a terrified expression on his face.

Oh. _Fuck_.

It was _her_.

"_Daaaaaaaanny? _Oh my _Gooooooood_, it's _you! Hiiiiiii!_"

The CSI's face crumpled in a near hilarious way, lips downturned in an upside down 'U' shape. He let out a single sob. Oh _shit_, it was Alyssa. One of the friendliest night shift store assistants.

Who happened to have the _loudest_, _most piercing_ voice of them all.

"_Woooow! _I didn't expect to see you here at this time!"

Danny pasted on a parody of a smile on his lips and turned to face Alyssa at the cashier. He had to confess that she appeared different during the daytime. For one thing, she wasn't dressed in total black like she usually was. However, she had her customary tri-hawk haircut, and still had enough steel on her face and ears to set off a metal detector.

"Hi, _uh_, Alyssa? Listen -"

"_Ohhh_, I _knoooow_, I work the night shift, but today, I traded places with Mimi. You remember Mimi, _riiiiiiight?_ She was asking about you the other day, you _knoooow_."

"Alyssa -" Danny went up to the cashier, making subtle chopping motions with his hand at his neck. "_Alyssa_, _listen_ -"

Oh God, the other police officers were staring at him now -

Alyssa's brown eyes suddenly widened in recollection. She snapped her fingers, jumping up and down a few times. "_OOOOHHHHH! _That _reminds_ me!"

Danny gave up on being subtle and went all out blatant in trying to quieten the perky shop assistant. He attempted to seize her wrists to hold her down and calm her. "_ALYSSA! Please _-"

"That's _RIGHT! _Your _Aneros Prostate Massager _is _HEEEEEEEEEREEEE!_"

Everyone in the store rotated their heads in unison to stare at Danny and the cashier girl.

"_Ooooooohhhh_, you'll _love_ it, Danny! It's _wonderful! _It's shaped _juuuuuust_ the way you like them! And it's _fantastic _for men who have _sensitive prostates_, so it's _PERFECT_ for you!"

Danny sensed every eye on him, boring into him with either amusement, horror, disgust or all three. It was horrible. He wished like hell for the earth to swallow him whole right now.

"Hold on, I'll _show_ it to you!" Alyssa disappeared behind the counter, delving around for the packaged device.

Somebody was standing beside him now.

Danny glanced sideways from the corners of his eyes.

Oh, great. It was Flack.

Who looked like he was suffering from muscle spasms all over his lower face.

"TA-_DAAH!_" Alyssa had a black, smooth dildo-like apparatus in her hand. "Watch _this!_"

She pressed a button, and it began to vibrate at an impressive speed. The buzzing noise was the only sound in the entire shop for a couple of minutes.

Danny didn't dare to look away from the pulsating dildo thing. He wanted to cry.

Alyssa switched off the device, placing it on the counter.

She was gazing at him with a bemused expression. "_Daaaaaaanny?_ Are you okay?"

When Danny didn't reply, she glanced at Flack's face. Then down at his belt. Where his police badge was.

She stared at it for some time, then looked back at Danny. Pursing her black-glossed lips, she tentatively leaned forward over the counter to see the CSI kit Danny was carrying. She stared at that for some time too. Then, she sat back, drumming her fingers on the glass counter.

Alyssa looked at Danny. Looked at Flack. Then back at Danny once more.

And then she got it.

"Oh." Her mouth transformed into an 'O' shape of understanding. "_Ooohhhhh_. You're _working_ right now. On the, _uh_, murder scene, right? The cops said they were going to send somebody over today to do some stuff in the stock room or something …" She chuckled timidly. "_Oops_." She shrugged, grimacing widely. "_Sorry_."

The silence in the store was earsplitting. At least, to Danny it was. He especially felt the gawking stares of the other two police officers who were there to watch the place along with Flack.

Both Flack and Danny stared vacantly at the punky shop assistant. After a while, the taller man turned in near slow-motion to Danny and said, "Excuse me. I have to go outside."

The homicide detective strolled in a composed fashion towards the entrance doors of the store, through them and turned left, out of sight.

A moment later, the hysterical sounds of someone laughing like a lunatic floated in from outside.

"AAAAAAHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA_HAAAAAAAH!_"

Some whacking sounds, as if somebody was kicking at the wall in fits.

More boisterous laughter.

A heavy thud, like somebody toppling to the floor. Even more rabid laughing.

Inside the store, Danny slowly inclined forward until he was face down on the cashier counter, his forehead touching the glass. His spectacles dug painfully into his face, but he could care less.

Great. Just _great_. By the end of the day, the whole NYPD and possibly the whole damn world was going to know he liked sticking _penis-shaped objects _up his _ass_ to massage his _sensitive_ _prostate_.

Wonderful.

_Fantastic_.

Danny groaned in misery, squeezing his eyes shut.

Why hadn't the earth gulped him down yet?

"Oh. My God … _Flack!_ What are you _doing_ rolling on the ground like _that!_"

Danny feverishly hoped Lindsay would kick the asshole in the balls _real_ hard.

"_Uhmm_. Uh …" Alyssa was drumming her fingers near his head. "You can take the massager home _today_ … if, _uh_, if you like."

With his face still stuck on the glass of the counter, Danny shook his head minutely.

"Well, _uh_, okay … we'll send it to your _apartment_ instead! How about that?"

Danny felt like laughing his head off and bawling his eyes out at the same time.

Alyssa hesitantly patted him on the back of his head. It didn't help make him feel better.

The bell at the shop's front door rang.

Again, the CSI felt somebody's presence next to him.

"Uhm … _Danny? _I don't know how to tell you this … but I think Flack's _lost _his _mind_," Lindsay said anxiously.

When Danny didn't say anything in return, Lindsay said to Alyssa, "What happened to _him?_"

"_Ooohhh_, _see_, just now I recognized him and said _HI! _And then he came up and said _hi_ to me too and after that, I suddenly remembered that he ordered a special Aneros Prostate Massager and it just arrived _TODAY! _And then I took it out and showed it to him." The cashier girl's voice dropped to a low whisper. "_I think he liked it a lot_."

Danny let out a sad, keening sound. No, scratch that, he didn't want the earth to consume him. He wanted to _die_.

For a minute or so, Lindsay was quiet. Danny could tell his peer was at a loss for words.

"Uhm. _Well_." Lindsay patted him on the back of his head like Alyssa did. "You know … there's _nothing_ wrong with owning a dildo. _I've_ got one. It's a two-headed, purple one that vibrates on three different speeds."

"_Oooh! Niiiice one! _I think that's one of our more popular products, you know!"

"Really?"

"Yeah! Danny bought one too!"

Danny began to wail.

He was never, ever going to show his face in this sex shop _ever_ again.

"No, wait. I think he got the one with _turbo speed _instead."

_EVER_.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

"_Don't_. _Touch_. _Me_."

Flack veered backwards, hands up in a pacifying manner.

"Okay, _okay_, whatever ya want, Danny." Flack replaced his hands on the steering wheel, staring ahead as he waited for the green light to come around on the traffic signal post.

Two minutes passed.

Flack whistled a random tune, his pink lips puckered. Good thing Monroe had gotten her own ride to the crime scene. He had a feeling things were going to go real bad in his car _pretty _soon, the way Danny was looking like a pissed off Doberman dog itching for a meal of barbequed Flack.

He ground his teeth together, gripped the steering wheel till his knuckles went white.

No, _no_, he had to keep it in or -

"_Soooooo_. _Prostate massager_, eh?"

_Flack_, his brain muttered, you _idiot_.

The homicide detective swiveled his head to look at Danny.

Uh oh. Danny was giving him the lethal glare of doom and destruction.

The _really_ lethal one.

"Yes. _Asshole_."

Oh man, Danny was talking through his teeth. A _very_ bad sign.

Flack's leg twitched fiercely. Ahh, _NO_, don't fall for the bait -

"Yeah, I'm kinda assumin' _that's_ where the thing's supposed to go, ya know?"

The taller man bit his lip hard. He didn't have the guts to look at his lover. _Ohh_, he was in deep shit, for sure.

Danny didn't make a sound.

The traffic light turned green.

And the redfaced CSI took the chance to wrap his hands around Flack's neck to throttle the daylights out of him.

"Waahh_AACCKK_ -"

Flack started to suffocate, tongue sticking out of his open mouth, visage turning purple from lack of air.

"_You_ … _friggin'_ … _ass_ … _frea_-" Danny's hands became tighter, cutting off his air supply.

Flack yanked at the hands enclosed tautly around his neck, smacking wildly at Danny with his other hand and making gasping noises. Holy cow, Danny was so pissed off the guy was yammering in _tongues_ now.

Flack succeeded in wrenching one hand away.

The cars behind his were honking their horns noisily.

The homicide detective slammed down his foot on the accelerator.

The speeding up caused Danny to fall back into his seat, snared in his fastened seat belt. Flack coughed, blinking away the tears in his eyes, clenching hard on the steering wheel as he maneuvered the car around a bend.

Okay, _that's it_, he was gonna freaking _park_ and they were gonna freaking _talk_ this _out_ -

His vehicle glided head on into the first empty parking space he found, screeching to an abrupt halt on the side of the road.

Flack cleared his throat, coughed some more, then exclaimed, "What the _hell_, Danny! Are ya tryin' ta _kill _me!"

Danny's upset, wide-eyed glare said everything.

"_Shit_." Flack rubbed at his sore neck, grimacing. Damn, Danny could get tough when he wanted to.

After a few moments, Flack looked back at the other man. The CSI was sitting with his arms crossed in front of him, staring ahead with a squinty, livid scowl on his attractive features. The man was breathing roughly.

Why did Danny have to look so stunning in the midday sunshine like that?

"Danny, look, I'm _sorry_, okay? I didn't mean to _laugh_ so much back at the store. It just … it was _just_ -" He had to bite his lip in order to not break into a guffaw. _Man_, would it be bad if he laughed at this point. "I couldn't _help_ it, okay? The look on that cashier girl's face was priceless -"

Flack made an attempt to clasp Danny's shoulder.

It shouldn't have hurt as much as it did when the shorter man forcefully jerked away from his touch and deliberately turned away, ignoring him.

The homicide detective huffed heatedly. Fuck it, it wasn't _his_ fault things were the way they were.

"Ya know … none of this woulda happened if you'd just get _rid _of that _stupid_ challenge. We would have had a _heck _lotta fun in that room -"

Danny aimed another irate glare at him. "Yeah, _that_ figures, somebody got _killed _in there and all ya can think 'bout is _sex_."

"_C'mon_, Danny! I wasn't the only one and ya _know_ it!" Flack twisted in his seat to face his lover, glowering himself. "I _know_ you. Remember? _I know you_."

"Oh, yeah_yeah_, I guess that's what all that sweet talk _bullshit _was 'bout, _huh?_ Said all that just to _get_ to m-"

Flack suddenly saw only red.

"_That was not bullshit_."

Danny faltered into silence, staring at him with wide, apprehensive eyes.

"That was _not_ bullshit." Flack's lips became a thin, angry line. "I did _not _say all that just to get to you. I did _not _say all that because all I wanted was friggin' _sex_."

He pointed one forefinger at himself, poking his own chest, right above the heart. "I said all that because I _meant_ it. I meant _every_ fuckin' word. 'Cos I was pourin' my _heart_ out, Danny."

Flack took a deep breath, then sat back into his seat, gazing out the front windshield. The damn sunlight was making his eyes sting. Yeah, that was it.

This time, Danny was doing all the staring.

"Ya know somethin' else?" Flack licked at his dry lips, continuing to stare outside. "I'm the only one between the two a' us who talks. I mean, _really_ talk. We've been together for over a year now … and in all that time, I was always the _last _person to find out 'bout your past. Had to learn it from _Mac_, of all people. S'funny, that." He released a mirthless chuckle.

"If we never worked on the Tanglewood case … would you have _told_ me, Danny?" Flack finally revolved his head to gaze at the other man. "Would ya?"

Danny's blue eyes glistened. The CSI's lower lip trembled for an instant. Then he looked down at his hands, a sad downturn to his lips.

"Some things in my past … I wish I could erase forever."

Flack studied the golden shine of Danny's hair in the sunlight. He waited for a minute before responding.

"Is that a yes, or a no?"

Danny lifted his head. His eyes now seemed old and resigned. "You're blue blood, Don. From a line of New York's finest, and in all senses of the word too. As for me … I'm the guy your dad probably warned ya 'bout." He smiled joylessly. "The little rat from the streets, who hung out with all the wrong people. The one who's _beneath_ ya." Danny bowed his head again.

Flack ruminated over what Danny had imparted to him, studying what he could see of Danny's mien. What the fuck? Danny didn't really _believe_ that, did he?

"S'good thing I don't friggin' listen to my old man then, isn't it?"

The CSI glanced up at that, the cheerless smile on his face transforming into a surprised but pleased one. Flack stared avidly at Danny's visage, refreshing his memories of his lover's face and smile. Damn. It was a beautiful sight.

Flack smiled fondly in return. "What? Ya think I give a shit what other people think? If that was true … I wouldn't be here with you, Danny."

The smile on Danny's face grew wider, his pearly teeth showing through. He ducked his head, abruptly appearing shy.

Flack sighed inwardly in vast relief. Okay, things didn't end up as bad as he expected. Which was really good. Sad Danny made him more distraught than furious Danny.

"I understand if you're reluctant to tell me 'bout Tanglewood and all that. But I want ya to know that I won't judge you on that. I never did, and I never will." The homicide detective decided to unfasten his seatbelt so he could sit more comfortably. "With all the nasty crap we see on our jobs … I know what _true _evil is." He smirked. "And _you? _Man, Messer, I can still see yer _halo_ dangling above yer head there."

Danny cackled. "Flattery ain't gonna get ya anywhere, Don."

Flack shifted in his seat, closer to Danny. One of his knees touched the shorter detective's. "Don't wanna be anywhere else. Haven't ya figured that out by now?"

Danny gently nudged Flack's knee.

It was the first voluntary and demonstrative physical action Flack received from Danny since the whole celibacy farce started.

Flack grinned. Damn, he felt like he was fourteen years old again and heads over heels in love with somebody. The only difference now was, he wasn't fourteen years old anymore. He glanced at the other detective, whose eyes were trained on the spot where their knees were touching. Danny's face was red. The homicide detective's gaze then fell on Danny's hand, which was on the man's thigh and close to their knees.

Huh. The rules of the game never said anything about touching each other in a non-sexual method. Flack puckered his lips in deliberation. Should he risk it?

Flack cautiously stretched out his hand towards Danny's.

He rested it on top of the CSI's, leaving it there for a couple of seconds before intertwining his fingers with the other man's. Flack squeezed Danny's hand once. It was nice. Just holding hands like this. He had no idea why they didn't do more often.

"Ya gotta _talk_ to me, buddy," Flack said placidly, stroking Danny's fingers. "Sometimes … sometimes, I feel like I dunno _anythin'_ 'bout ya 'cos ya never tell me things. I'm not a mind reader. As much as I'd like to tell ya I'll automatically know what ya want and what you're thinkin', I _don't_." He paused. "S'why I enjoy makin' love with ya so much. All yer masks disappear when we do. I get to see to _real _you."

Danny was quiet. Flack wasn't worried. He knew the other man had listened to every word.

"And … well. I'm _happy_ when you talk to me 'bout yourself. 'Cos it shows ya _trust_ me," Flack finished off.

Two minutes passed in calm hush. They sat where they were, their hands molded together on Danny's thigh, breathing in synchronization. Flack could virtually hear the bespectacled man thinking. If what he said today got through that thick skull, Flack was a happy man. It wasn't everyday that he succeeded in astonishing his lover into silence either.

Flack gave Danny's hand one last squeeze, then released it and set the gear back to drive mode.

"I won't ask ya to take back the challenge anymore."

Danny looked sharply at him.

"I won't, 'cos, as I said before, I know you're doin' it for a reason," Flack added. He guided the car onto the road, resuming their journey to CSI headquarters. "And I know you'll tell me why when it's all over. If I make it till the end of the week, anyway."

That got Danny to snigger.

"Don."

"Hmm?" Flack gazed at Danny when they halted at another traffic stop.

The shorter man's blue eyes were almost transparent in the bright sunlight.

"To answer yer question … I _do_ think 'bout us. I think 'bout us a _lot_." Danny cast a coy smile at him. "I think 'bout _you_, just as much. Every day and night."

Something similar to a hot supernova burst inside Flack's chest.

"I'm not the king of prose like you … dunno how to say everythin' else without soundin' like some corny romance novel." Danny huffed out an embarrassed laugh, gazing down at his shoes. Then he looked up once more, obviously desiring to see Flack's reaction.

The homicide detective smiled tenderly.

"You don't hafta be. You always did move my earth with the smallest of things, Danny."

That evening in his own apartment, after a day of watching Danny at the labs and paper work at his precinct, Flack went up to his calendar with a black pen in hand.

And marked that day, as the day he moved Danny's earth with the truth from the depths of his heart.


	7. Part 7

**One Week**

Fandom: CSI:NY

Author: Kimmychu

Rating: FRAO (we're talkin' Karma Sutra-rating here)

Pairing: Danny/Flack

Content Warning: Major sexual tension, Flack-snark overload, dirty thoughts. Lotsa dirty thoughts.

Spoilers: Meh, nothing important, but to be safe, post Season 2.

Summary: Danny and Flack love to dance the horizontal tango. Everyday. Three times a day. And night. But one day, Flack says yes, and Danny says no. What will Flack the sex maniac do when his lover gives him the ultimatum of no sex … for one whole week?

Disclaimer: YES, THEY BELONG TO ME - I mean, why, of course not, they're just fictional … hot … characters. Mmm, hot.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Author's Notes: Wowzas. I dunno why I always end up writing such long chapters, hahahah. I don't think I'm gonna contemplate too much on it anymore, or my brain will explode or something. So, yeah, you guys are gonna get looooong parts till the end, how 'bout that? Okay, if anyone's curious about the reporter character who appears in this part … she's a _canon_ character. Remember that episode where this mental patient who liked to dress in a superhero suit was found dead? And Flack was at his crime scene when this blonde reporter approached him? _That's_ her. I don't know the character's name, so I made up one. If anyone knows her name on the show, feel free to let me know! And enjoy the story!

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

**viii. Charunarikshita**

The grass of the football field seemed to Flack to be like an iridescent, emerald sea. Calming, relaxing, relieving the tension in his broad shoulders. He sighed, a wide, closed-lip smile spreading across his mien. Little beads of water droplets on the sheared, green blades sparkled as brightly as diamonds, making his eyelids flutter.

How he could see each minuscule drop of moisture, from where he was sitting on the bench on the sidelines, was beyond his current level of comprehension. His brain wasn't interested in figuring that out anyway.

Right now, Flack was way too mesmerized by Danny's wiggling buttocks in front of his face.

"I'm too _hot_ to handle, there's no doubt!" The CSI's hips rocked from side to side. "I'm too _hot_ to handle for I'll _knock_ ya _out!_"

The homicide detective grinned. Damn _straight_ Danny was too hot.

"I'm too _hot_ to handle for I'll _KNOCK_ YA _OUT!_"

Danny leapt nimbly into the air, letting out a shrill whoop, shaking the fluffy, white pom-poms in his hands.

The CSI was wearing a blue, red and white-colored cheerleader's suit. White thigh-high stockings, high heels, a sexy, long-sleeved and skin-tight top, and the _skimpiest_ mini-skirt the homicide detective had ever laid eyes on. And, for some strange reason, it didn't bother Flack in the slightest. He sure had no reason to complain when he got a prime view of his lover's finest assets.

Flack sniggered. Heh. _Ass_-ets.

"_R-E-D! H-O-T!_" Danny executed what the tall detective considered one hell of an amazing hip twist. "What do I _got!_" He clapped his pom-poms together twice.

Flack's lower jaw sagged.

Oh, _man_. All Danny had on under the skirt was a red _g-string_.

The homicide detective's mouth opened even wider. He had a feeling he was dribbling like a ravenous Bassett hound.

"I gotta _LOT!_" The pom-poms were smacked together twice more. "_Yeah! _I gotta man who's _R-E-D H-O-T!_"

_Wow_. Where the heck did Danny learn to do such mind-bending butt wriggles and jumps like _that?_

"_REEEEED HOT!_"

The CSI was on top of him in an instant, having somehow hopped from where he was prancing about on the field onto Flack's lap in utter defiance of gravity. Flack toppled backwards on the bench, grunting at the sudden additional weight of over a hundred and forty pounds of lean, sinewy gorgeousness.

Weird. Danny felt a whole lot lighter than usual.

Flack anticipated a painful impact with the unyielding, wooden surface of the bench. Instead, his head landed on … a satin-covered pillow?

Huh. He wasn't at a football field anymore.

They were in Danny's bedroom, with Danny sitting directly on his crotch and him sprawled on his back on the bed. Flack brushed his hands over the bed covers before running them up Danny's shins and thighs. Someone had certainly switched his lover's usual cotton sheets and covers for _very_ luxurious silk.

And Danny was still attired in his scanty cheerleader costume.

"I said …" Danny grinded his hips in a circular motion. His tongue flitted out. "You've gotta …"

The shorter man leaned forward, until the tip of his nose touched Flack's. Flack could do little else except stare in wonder back at Danny's half-lidded, sultry eyes above him. Danny's constant, swiveling pressure on a particular part of his anatomy was slowly driving him crazy.

"You've gotta … you've gotta be a Don Flack fan," Danny whispered against his parted lips while stroking his bare chest. "He's better than the best …"

Flack's gaze shifted downwards to see Danny dexterously rise up on his knees, lifting his lower body off Flack's groin. The mini-skirt blocked out what Danny was doing with his hand between his legs, but Flack had a pretty damn good idea.

A second later, he saw Danny's hand pulling down the red g-string to mid-thighs.

Danny had _nothing_ on beneath the skirt now.

The homicide detective shuddered from head to toe.

"He'll beat the rest …" The CSI's hand was on his hot and hard erection, fondling it with the expertise and familiarity of an intimate, experienced lover. "You've gotta … you've gotta be a Don Flack fan!"

Without warning, Danny straddled his lap once more and sank down on Flack's cock, all the way to the hilt in one thrust.

"_Oohh_ … oh yeah, _Don_ …"

Flack let out a harsh groan at the tightness and heat. _Fuck_, he'd missed this so bad. Missed being inside Danny so much. Missed _Danny_, period. He felt Danny run fingers through his dark, shorn hair, caressing his head.

The cheerleader suit was gone.

It was just the two of them now, in Flack's haven on earth, with nothing at all between them. Just them. The way he loved it best.

"Love ya." Danny was panting softly through lips curved up in an open smile. "Love ya so much."

Flack couldn't stop the wetness springing to his eyes. He'd waited for Danny to say that for so long, to say it without reservation or apprehension -

The bedroom door burst open with a bang.

Both he and Danny screamed in fright as an entire team of giant footballers in red and white uniforms and helmets stomped into the room, surrounding the bed. Flack quickly wrapped his arms around Danny in a protective gesture, and held the other man tightly to him. Damnit, where was his gun when he needed it!

"_Earth to Flack! Earth to Flack! Earth to Flack!_"

The footballers chanted the same three words over and over, stamping their feet where they stood and snapping their fingers in unison.

Flack turned his head to look at Danny, to tell him he was safe, that it was going to be alright.

But his arms were empty.

Danny was gone.

The screwy footballers were gone.

And he wasn't really in Danny's bedroom at all.

The finger snapping, however, remained.

"_EARTH TO FLAAAAAACK!_"

One of the finger snaps struck him precisely on his nose, like the nip of a stretched rubber band let go. Flack flinched. _Ouch_, that stung.

"_Hey_, Flack, whadda hell's _wrong _with ya today!"

The lanky detective blinked numerous times, then glanced up with dazed, big eyes at the hulk of a man who loomed over him.

It was D'Anda, his fellow homicide detective.

Flack blinked again, his stomach dropping to the floor in dawning realization.

Oh _shit_.

It had all been simply one crazy fantasy.

Danny was never in some kinky cheerleader suit.

They were never in Danny's bedroom making love.

He was sitting at his desk at the precinct all along.

Flack squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed at his forehead. D'Anda was prodding him in the shoulder with one thick finger.

_Fuck_.

His fantasizing was getting _way_ out of hand.

"Flack, c'mon, whassamatter with ya?"

"I'm _fine_, D'Anda. Nothin' wrong." Flack attempted to smirk at the guy.

It didn't assuage the giant man one bit.

"Nothin' _wrong? _You gotta be fuckin' _jokin'_. Do ya know how _long_ I've been standin' here snappin' my fingers in frontta yer _face?_" D'Anda replied.

Flack sighed. That's it. He was going to buy one of those automatic mini-electrocuting gadgets if they stopped him from behaving like a complete idiot in public.

_Especially_ in front of a veteran, _I'm-one-of-New-York's-finest-till-the-day-I-die_ cop like D'Anda.

"I'm _fine_. Really." Flack made sure his tone of voice revealed none of his self-exasperation.

D'Anda stared down with narrowed, shrewd eyes at him for a minute or two, then said, "Problem with the girlfriend?"

A disparaging guffaw escaped Flack's lips before he could control himself. Geez, if only the guy knew how _close_ he was with his answer. Flack shrugged nonchalantly.

"_That_ figures." D'Anda huffed out a single cackle. "Sure explains the _lost puppy _lookon yer mug just now."

Flack closed his eyes a second time. Shit, it was _that _obvious?

When he reopened his eyes, D'Anda was already back at his own desk, cramming himself into his seat. The older homicide detective was no fat guy, but when a man was nearly seven and a half foot tall and all muscle and bone, most things didn't fit comfortably.

"So ya gonna talk 'bout it or what?"

Flack glanced at the other detective opposite him in surprise. Huh? D'Anda actually wanted to _know _about his personal life? Now _that_ was out of the ordinary. Flack craned his head at an angle, gazing at D'Anda in a scrutinizing fashion. Sure, the guy had that spot opposite his desk for years. Didn't mean they talked much about their personal lives outside of work. Just wasn't a common topic of conversation among the guys.

"_C'mon_, just spit it out. Least I won't hafta keep lookin' at ya makin' _silly faces _if ya talk 'bout whatever the hell's botherin' ya."

Heh. He must have really weirded out the older detective out with whatever facial expressions he'd made. Flack inwardly smirked. Hopefully it wasn't the face he usually had whenever he got to bury himself deep inside Danny. None of his peers would ever look at him the same way ever again.

"How 'bout we talk it over a _spicy chicken burrito _at Taco Bell, _ah?_" Flack asked with a deadpan expression on his handsome mien. It was taking everything he had to not break into a snicker.

The big man slapped down the case file he was browsing through on his desk, and glowered at Flack from under heavy, graying brows. D'Anda was probably the only other detective in the building who could match Flack's intense glare.

D'Anda pointed one forefinger in Flack's direction, leaning elbows on his table. "That. Is _not_ funny, Flack."

The tremendous vehemence in the man's baritone voice destroyed what little was left of Flack's self-control. His sniggering merely incensed D'Anda more.

"_That is NOT funny!_"

Flack's amused cackle increased in volume. He couldn't help himself. A riled up D'Anda was rare and had to be exploited for entertainment as much as possible.

"_You _try sittin' on a fuckin' toilet bowl for _four hours straight_, shittin' out _fire!_"

Another detective sitting nearby stifled a laugh of their own.

"I am _never_ gonna eat at frickin' Taco Bell _EVER_ again!"

"Okay, _okay_, D'Anda, I'm _sorry_, a'right?" Flack eventually said, after he managed to regain his composure. He had to blink to clear his eyes of the tears that gathered there thanks to laughing so hard.

"That is _not_ funny … not funny at all." D'Anda was shaking his head, back to reading whatever reports that were in his case file. "Laugh all ya want. Someday, you'll find out _'xactly _what I went through, _then_ ya won't be laughin' so much!"

Flack chuckled good-naturedly. "_Hey_, you're talkin' to the guy who ate _four dozen raw oysters _in _twelve minutes_, my friend."

D'Anda stared pointedly at him. "Yeah ... and I bet ya _puked_ it all up right after, _eh?_"

Flack simply made a face and kept quiet.

"_Heh_."

_Ohh_, Flack wasn't going to let D'Anda have the last word today.

"Shuttle ass."

D'Anda jerked upright in his seat. The man's brown eyes were wide for a second, then narrowed into slits.

"_Kiss_ ass."

It was Flack's turn to glower at D'Anda. To other people, it appeared like the two homicide detectives were embroiling themselves in an escalating verbal match that was about to go bad real quick.

If they didn't detect the evident twinkle of good humor in both men's eyes, that is.

"Flannel boy."

D'Anda's bushy eyebrows shot up at that. His squarish, lined visage was blank.

"_Wow_. That … comin' from the guy who's wearin' a _striped _tie, a _checkered _dress shirt and a friggin' _Barbie_ _pink_ suit."

Flack sniffed haughtily. "Difference between you and me? I make _anythin'_ look good." He leaned forward in his chair towards D'Anda with a snooty expression. "Even _flannel_."

The other detective barked out a sarcastic laugh, and smacked one large hand over his heart. "Aww, ya _hurt_ my _feelings_. Now I'll hafta go _cut_ my wrists and _cry_ 'bout how _cruel_ the world is to me."

"Don't worry, I'll make sure yer pension's put to good use," Flack replied with a wicked smirk. "Gonna buy my _girlfriend_ all kindsa pretty stuff."

"Uh huh. Whatever ya say." D'Anda looked meaningfully at him. "_Pretty boy_."

Flack gave him a mock smile, along with the finger.

D'Anda cackled, then returned to reading whatever he was reading.

There was an easy lull for the next couple of minutes, interspersed with ringing phones, chatter, clicking sounds of keyboard buttons being pressed. Fellow cops dragging suspects to interview rooms for interrogation. And the typical felon or two yelling their lungs out over injustice and innocence.

The blue-eyed homicide detective sighed to himself.

Yep. Just another ordinary, slow and easy day at his beloved precinct.

Flack slumped in his seat, eyelids lowering. Right, back to daydreaming about Dann-

He suddenly felt a hand fall on his shoulder.

"Yo, Flack."

Hey, it was Vicaro. The guy looked rather pleased with himself.

"Vicaro, what's up?"

"There's some _blondie_ who's lookin' for ya," Vicaro said, motioning his head towards the entrance of the precinct and waggling his eyebrows. "A _hot_ blondie."

Flack sat up, immediately back to his alert, sharp self.

Blondie? A _hot_ blondie?

Flack grinned from ear to ear. Did Danny dye his hair? Maybe Danny decided to tint his hair with blonde streaks again like he did last year. _Yeah_. The homicide detective had to force himself to not bounce in his chair with delight. Work had prevented him from seeing his lover since that day at the sex shop, and that was two days ago. They had chatted over the phone for hours within those two days, but it just wasn't the same as being physically together.

One of Flack's feet started tapping like mad on the floor.

Oh boy, _oh boy_, Danny had come to visit him at wo-

"Why do ya always get the _hot chicks_, ah, Flack?" Vicaro punched him in the shoulder.

Flack's enthusiasm instantly deflated like a punctured car tyre. He frowned in puzzlement.

Hot … _chick? _What?

"What's yer definition of _hot_, Vicaro?" D'Anda said loudly over the everyday din of their workplace.

"A nice rack, a big butt and a pretty, wide mouth!"

D'Anda burst out laughing. "_Gee_, Vicaro, and ya wonder why ya got no woman."

"Shut the hell up, D'Anda! Least I've _had_ women before."

The giant detective sitting not far from Flack grinned like a loon. "Oh _yeah? _Ya sure you're not talkin' 'bout _yerself?_"

"_Hey_, ya want me to _bust_ yer freakin' _onions_ -" Vicaro stomped off to D'Anda's desk, leaving Flack on his own to sort out his confusion.

Flack scratched the side of his head.

Hot chick? _Huh? _He didn't know any blonde chick with big boobs and a big butt -

"Hello, Detective Flack."

Whatever joy he had inside at the thought of Danny coming to see him flew straight out the door the moment he made eye contact with the person who'd appeared beside his desk.

Oh. It wasn't Danny at all.

It was that irritating blonde reporter who kept tailing him at all his crime scenes. He remembered her from her short hair and black spectacles. And as Vicaro described, she really did have a nice rack. If he wasn't already partnered to the hottest human being alive … he _might_ have been interested in her. He had the suspicion she'd deliberately picked one heck of a low cut top for her visit to his precinct.

"Did I come at a bad time?"

Flack schooled his features into a polite smile.

"No, it's fine. What is it ya want?"

Flack maintained his small smile even as the woman looked taken aback by his bluntness. Nope, only the slightest courtesy for _this _one. His gut instincts told him it was just an act. He was well aware that she'd been doing a lot more than follow him around on his cases. He wouldn't even blink if she actually had some file on him with everything from psychiatric evaluations to what he had for breakfast last Friday to how many _eyelashes_ he had for each eye.

She was, quite literally, the kind of journalist he wouldn't think twice to label a stalker.

Good thing he knew how to keep his private life as it was. _Private_. Danny didn't need any more crap than what he already went through in the last two years.

The woman sat down on the chair next to his desk, crossing one leg on top of the other, tugging at her short skirt. Behind her, Vicaro and D'Anda were openly ogling her from head to toe. Or rather, from the back of her head to the back of her feet. Vicaro seemed to be predominantly captivated with her round posterior.

"You _do_ remember me, don't you, detective?"

He merely raised one eyebrow in response to her question.

"Marisa Clarke, from the New York Times?"

"Ah."

Marisa shifted on her seat. Her skirt started to ride up her thighs, exposing more pale skin.

"You promised me you'd give me some of your time to talk about the Aberthon case."

Flack kept his gaze on her face. _Yeesh_, she wasn't even bothering to be subtle with the flesh display.

"And the LaRue case. _And_ the Central Park triple murders. As well as the Romano case -"

"_Okay_. I get the point."

Marisa smiled at him.

"Perhaps we can talk over _dinner?_" The journalist puckered her red lips. "My treat."

Vicaro released a high-pitched whistle.

All it took was one fierce glare from Flack to get the cocky detective rushing off somewhere else. D'Anda had his eyes trained on the case file in his hands, but the man was snickering under his breath. Flack ignored him.

"Look, Marisa -"

"Just _one_ dinner." She blinked her hazel eyes. "And I won't bother you again."

That abruptly silenced Flack.

Well, well. _Never_ bother him again? Did he hear that right? That was too good to be true. But if she was serious …

The homicide detective stared at her with guarded blue eyes.

"Just _one_."

"Right."

"And you'll never bother me again."

"Right."

Flack nibbled on his lower lip in rumination.

Marisa shifted in her seat once more, never moving her gaze away from his face.

D'Anda coughed, and it suspiciously sounded like a very guttural, "Say yes!"

Flack aimed another glower at his peer. He made a mental note to buy the guy a giant-ass burrito from Taco Bell later for lunch. It'd serve him right.

"So, Detective Flack? What do you say?"

Flack took a deep breath. Okay. He made up his mind. He was tired of her following him around like paparazzi anyhow. And if going for a single dinner with her got her out of his hair forever … that was a good deal in his books. Once she was out of the picture, he could go back to fantasizing about Danny and thinking of all the ways he was going to make his lover scream in ecstasy once Danny's one week celibacy challenge was done and done.

He licked his lips. Yeah. That _was_ a good deal.

"Okay." Flack swiftly brandished a forefinger in the air. "But _just one_."

Marisa's smile was broad and toothy. "Alright … tonight. Eight. At Serafina."

From the corner of his eyes, Flack saw D'Anda's head snap up. He didn't blame his fellow detective for the wide-eyed expression. Serafina was one indisputably popular and happening downtown Northern Italian restaurant and bar on Lafayette street. Fantastic food, great music, famous and upscale diners.

And best of all, he didn't have to pay a _cent_ for this particular dinner.

"Serafina, it is."

Marisa's smile grew wider. It was starting to give Flack the creeps.

"I'll see you tonight then … Detective Flack."

The homicide detective was still feeling goosebumps all over his body long after the reporter was gone. There was something about the way she appeared so _smug_ that didn't sit right with him.

"It ain't fair. Ya _always_ get the _hot chicks_," D'Anda was muttering to himself. "And a freakin' free dinner at freakin' _Serafina_. It ain't fair."

"C'mon, she just wants me to talk 'bout my cases. That's all."

D'Anda sent him a skeptical look. "Yeah. _Talk_."

"_Yeah, talk_. That's _it_."

"Yeah, whatever, Flack," D'Anda replied, smirking. "You're a lousy liar."

Flack huffed in annoyance and turned away from the other detective, arms crossed over his chest. His discontented frown was back in full force.

It was just a dinner. One dinner. That's it. _One_ dinner, and the frustrating reporter from New York Times was off his back for good.

He chewed on his lower lip.

So why did he feel like he'd just made the worst decision of his life?

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

The chocolate mousse was really yummy.

Danny's tongue snaked out to lick clean the small spoon in his grasp. _Mmm_, chocolate. He loved chocolate so much.

But it could never top his number one food of all time.

The CSI grinned as he lounged bonelessly on his couch, watching some movie about an American hockey team defeating the Russian team during the Olympics in the eighties. He pondered over how he could possibly make Flack taste like chocolate mousse. Pineapple? No, he heard pineapple was what made _women_ taste better down there. And he didn't want Flack to taste like pineapple. Would getting Flack to eat chocolate mousse everyday make the man taste like it too? That was something interesting to look into.

Danny dipped his spoon into the bowl he propped on his chest. He pulled at the collar of his white tank top, then stretched his bare legs. Going around buck naked in his apartment was one of his guilty pleasures. Tonight, however, was a chilly night, so his tank top stayed on. It was pretty pointless to wear anything on his lower body these days anyway. Fantasizing about Flack used up his clean underwear faster than he ever imagined, and that was only from pre-come.

"'_Wait_ a second... I've given you _all _I've got, now you're pulling the _plug_ on me?'"

Danny's eyes were wide in avid attention. It was remarkable how much the actor on the screen right now looked like Flack. Maybe it was the large, blue eyes and pale complexion. He couldn't envisage Flack having hair _that_ poofy, not without laughing his ass off.

"'_Have _you? Given me your very _best? _Because I _know_ there's a lot more in you, a whole other level that, for some reason, you just don't want to go to. Aw, _hell_, you don't understand what the hell I'm talking about.'"

_Hmm_. Danny licked at the chocolate mousse on his spoon in an absent-minded manner. Kurt Russell was kinda hot too, in an older guy-leader kind of way. Kinda like Mac.

"'No... _you_ know what I don't understand, Herb? I don't understand _you_, _nobody_ on this team understands you. _You_, with your _ridiculous_ sayings, and your _drills_, and those _stupid_ psychology tests you had everybody take -'"

"'_Everybody?_'"

Danny watched Kurt Russell in his brown suit jog up the staircase on the television screen.

"'What, so _this_ is what this is about? Because I wouldn't take your _test? Fine_, you want me to take your test, I'll _take_ your _test_, is _that_ what you want?'"

The CSI sucked on the stainless steel utensil in hand. Damn, that actor was looking more and more like Flack by the second. Flack looked unerringly like that when he was getting pissed off.

"'No. I wanna see the kid in the net who _wouldn't_ take the test.'"

Oh yeah. He _had_ to get his lover to watch this movie with him some time. Even Flack wouldn't be able to deny how much he resembled the guy who played hockey player Jim Craig in the movie.

A sharp sound when he dug his spoon into the bowl indicated that there wasn't anymore chocolate mousse for his enjoyment. Danny raised the bowl up to look inside. Yep. It was all gone. He sighed heavily, and placed the empty bowl and spoon on the low coffee table in front of him.

No more sweet dessert. And no more cute, puffy-haired Flack-lookalike on the television anymore. Which meant his mind was going to be overwhelmed by thoughts of Flack _any_ moment now.

Danny sighed again, slouching on the cushions. His mobile phone was on the sofa, near his right thigh. He gazed at it. Bit his lower lip.

He wasn't sure whether he should call Flack for a change. The other detective was the one who did all the calling in the last two days, which Danny didn't mind at all. What stood out to him was that Flack _wanted_ to call him up and talk with him. That said more to him than any physical affection anyone could lavish on him. They hadn't had the opportunity to see each other at all since that day at that place where something he shall not ever mention had taken place.

Two days ago.

It was unbelievable he wasn't dead from Flack withdrawal yet.

Danny plucked up the silver and orange device, and rolled it round and round on his palm. To call him, or not to call him. That was the question of the evening.

The brown-haired man curled up his lean legs on the couch. The first two days of the one week challenge were _terrible_. He never knew the true meaning of sexual frustration until then, and Flack didn't till then either. He knew that, because Flack had told him for himself during one of his calls the day before. Danny flipped open his phone, then closed it. He smiled softly.

The third day was better. Perhaps Flack not being physically present around him had something to do with it. Besides, he had been stuck at the labs the whole day and night too, and for once, he didn't protest the long shift one bit. His eagerness at taking on an additional shift surprised Mac and Stella so much the Greek CSI had pressed a hand against his forehead to check if he was delirious from a high fever. _Hah_. That was funny.

The work kept his mind off sex far better than television could. Except, no matter what he did, Flack was still at the forefront of his thoughts, always. He saw Flack in everything, even … no, _in particular_, the huge hotdog he'd gotten for lunch that day. And the guy called him a record of over _eleven_ times. In _one_ day.

Danny stroked the shiny buttons of the cel phone's number pad. He confessed, he _loved_ those calls. It was totally mind-blowing to learn so many new things about his other half that he never knew before. Like Flack having a celebrity crush on Judi Dench. Or Flack having a deep curiosity for Irish history. Or that the man had once eaten forty-eight raw oysters in less than twelve minutes for some stupid challenge at a seafood restaurant.

The CSI made a face. _Eeww_, maybe he was better off not knowing that.

He flipped open his mobile phone again. Okay. He was going to call Flack. Hadn't talk to his lover since this morning. He missed hearing Flack's deep voice.

Danny pressed the button that speed-dialled Flack's number.

On the second ring, the homicide detective picked up.

"Hey, Danny!"

Danny smiled extensively. Whoa, Flack sure sounded happy to hear from him. It made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

"Hey, how ya doin'?"

"I'm a whole lot better _now_," Flack said in a low, rumbly tone.

Danny pushed himself to a sitting position on the couch. There was a lot of background noise, like the other man was in a busy public place. Judging from all the talking and the music, he speculated that Flack was in a restaurant or bar or something. Danny straightened up, frowning slightly.

What was Flack doing at a place like that? Without telling him?

"Don, where are ya?"

"I'm at Serafina … ya know, that Italian restaurant between Astor Place and 4th street?"

All of a sudden, Danny didn't feel very good at all.

"Yeah … _yeah_, I know. The one on Lafayette street."

"Yeah, it's great!" Flack had to speak really loudly into the phone to be heard above the hubbub where he was. "You'll love their Caesar salad and their brick oven pizza!"

"Don -"

Flack was rambling on, something about delicious grilled calamari and baby spinach with goat cheese, and Danny tried to cut in. He'd never heard Flack going on and on like that.

Like he was _nervous_ about something.

"_Don! _What are ya _doin'_ there?"

"I'm just here -"

The rest of Flack's sentence was drowned out by another person's voice.

"Don, who're you talking to?"

Danny's breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened in shock.

What the hell?

That was a woman's voice. A woman who called Flack by his _first name_. Flack _never_ permitted people who weren't close to him to call him that. Which meant …

Flack must have moved his cel phone away from his mouth, because the guy sounded far away when he said to the mystery woman, "It's just a friend, that's all."

The ground beneath Danny dropped away.

His hands were shaking. His whole body was shaking. His wide eyes stared ahead, but they saw nothing.

A _friend? _That's _all_ he ever was to Flack?

His phone slipped from his loosening grasp, plunging down past the edge of the sofa and clattering onto the floor. He could hear Flack's diminutive voice calling his name.

Little by little, in his muddled mind, Flack's voice was overwhelmed by the voice of the anonymous woman who was there with his lover. All he could hear was her saying Flack's name over and over, in a seductive, feminine voice. His thoughts spiraled out of control, and now, all he could see in his head was Flack sitting at that restaurant with that woman, smiling at her, laughing with her, _kissing_ her -

Danny covered his face with his hands, involuntarily pushing his spectacles up over his high forehead. The saccharine taste of chocolate in his mouth now made him feel nauseous.

Oh God.

He'd lost the one person he truly loved.

His worst nightmare had become a reality.

On the television, the ultimate hockey match had ended, with the American team celebrating their victory to the fullest. Danny had set the volume quite high, and the boisterous, happy cheering in the movie filled his living area.

He was glad for that.

It made it so much easier to fool himself that the crackling sound he heard within him wasn't the echo of his entire world falling apart.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

"Danny? _Danny! _Buddy, _talk_ to me!"

Flack cursed audibly when there was no answer, and the line unexpectedly disconnected. He wrenched his phone away from his ear and hastily called Danny. He had heard the other man's sharp intake of breath.

Shit. Shitshit_shit_.

Why did the dumb broad call him by his first name like that? He _never_ said she could do that.

The homicide detective breathed roughly, listening to the monotonous ringing tone that seemed to go on forever.

"C'mon, pickuppickup_pickup_."

After a minute, the lanky detective cut off his call, scowling deeply.

This was not good. _Not good_.

Danny had to be thinking the _worst_ about the situation by this moment. Flack inwardly berated himself for being such a freaking idiot. He _knew_ he should have told Danny about it, even if Danny ended up getting mad at him for it. At least Danny would still be _talking_ to him.

Flack was terrified to contemplate about whether Danny would even wish to acknowledge his _existence_ any longer.

"Who's Danny?" Marisa was seated opposite him once more, having just returned from her visit to the restroom. She was deceptively poker-faced. Flack didn't even want to comment on the piece of cloth she was wearing that constituted as her evening dress.

"Like I said, just a _friend_. None of yer _business_," Flack snarled, his lips a thin line of bitterness. "And it's _Detective Flack_ to _you_."

He dialled Danny's number a second time. Sensed the journalist staring at him with indignant eyes.

"Well, I'm _sorry_ for calling you by your first name." Marisa took off her glasses, glaring at Flack. "I didn't realize it was some _martial law _that no one can call you _Don_."

Flack ignored her, listening to his cel phone again. Danny wasn't picking up. He disconnected his call and slammed his phone down on the table.

_Damnit_. How did things turn so bad so fast?

"I don't know what your problem is, I really don't."

"My _problem_, _Miss_ Clarke, is that we've been here for over an _hour_ and you haven't asked me a _damn_ thing 'bout _any_ of my cases."

For the first time since Flack met her that day, Marisa appeared sincerely shamefaced.

"Okay … _okay_, I admit it, alright? I never intended to talk about your cases tonight."

Flack was motionless, only his fingers drumming on the clothed table top in extreme displeasure. His scowl intensified. Oh, she was fucking _joking_, right?

"Look, I -" Marisa gesticulated with her hands, outwardly flustered. "I think there's … chemistry between us."

Flack's eyes widened in stunned vexation. Oh, she was _so_. Fucking. _Joking_.

"Chemistry." The homicide detective laughed mirthlessly. "Are ya fuckin' _kiddin'_ me? Trailin' me around like a damn _stalker_ does _not_ constitute as _chemistry_."

"If you'll just _give_ me a cha-"

"You're _crazy_." Flack threw down his dining napkin onto his partially eaten dinner of tuna steak. He snatched up his mobile phone and put it into his jacket pocket. "Not only that, you're one _unprofessional_ broad. Usin' yer _job_ as an excuse to _trick_ me into going out for a dinner with ya? Wow, I feel so _honored_."

Marisa bared her teeth.

"There're men who'd _kill _to be with me, _Flack_."

"Well, I got a _newsflash_ for ya, _honey_." Flack shoved back his chair and stood up to his full height. "I don't give a _shit_ how nice yer _boobs_, yer _butt_ or yer _face_ is. You're a _liar_. And just from tonight, I can already tell the only person ya care 'bout is _yerself_."

He moved away from the table to stand next to Marisa's seat, towering over her.

"To me, that makes ya ugly inside _and _out."

Marisa was finally showing her true colors. She sneered at Flack, looking very much like a constipated Persian cat.

"I _knew_ I was right." She smiled viciously up at him. "I knew you were a _faggot_. Go home to your _fag slut_ … _Danny_ or whatever boring name he's called."

For a moment, the blood in Flack's veins boiled lava hot. It wasn't the first time he had that insult flung in his face before. That, he could handle fine. But hearing some self-centered bitch call his significant other a degrading slur like that?

Fuck, _NO_.

"Well." He smiled venomously back at her. "It's so much better than being _you_."

She visibly bristled at his comeback.

Other patrons of the restaurant were staring at them. Flack could care less. Marisa, on the other hand, was beginning to realize she'd inadvertently made a spectacle of herself, and attempted to discipline herself into some semblance of her cool, attractive self.

"You oughta be _real_ happy my mom brought me up to be a gentlemen who didn't hit women." Flack's smile vanished. "Because you _ever_ call Danny that again … I won't hesitate to give ya a _new_ face you'll _never_ forget."

He inclined forward, pushing himself into Marisa's personal space.

Yeah, she was definitely regretting her words now.

"We had a deal, Clarke. _One_ dinner, and you get the hell outta my way. _Permanently_."

The journalist cowered in her seat, hazel eyes wide with trepidation.

Flack stood upright once more, and smiled bitterly. "Dinner's over. Bye bye now."

The homicide detective stormed off without waiting for a response from the woman, paying no attention to the curious stares of the other diners as he strode past them to the restaurant entrance. Clarke was already long gone from his mind. The sole person he concentrated on was a certain bespectacled CSI who was all the way across the city.

His steps, once outside the eatery, became running ones.

He rushed to his car, jumped inside, slammed the door close and promptly started the engine. Stepped hard on the accelerator and sped out onto the hectic streets of New York. Yanked out his mobile phone and dialled Danny's number yet again.

Flack was fervently praying under his breath.

If he lost Danny due to his idiocy, he would never forgive himself.


	8. Part 8

**One Week**

Fandom: CSI:NY

Author: Kimmychu

Rating: FRAO (we're talkin' Karma Sutra-rating here)

Pairing: Danny/Flack

Content Warning: Major sexual tension, Flack-snark overload, dirty thoughts. Lotsa dirty thoughts.

Spoilers: Meh, nothing important, but to be safe, post Season 2.

Summary: Danny and Flack love to dance the horizontal tango. Everyday. Three times a day. And night. But one day, Flack says yes, and Danny says no. What will Flack the sex maniac do when his lover gives him the ultimatum of no sex … for one whole week?

Disclaimer: YES, THEY BELONG TO ME - I mean, why, of course not, they're just fictional … hot … characters. Mmm, hot.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Author's Notes: Yikes. I reallyreallyreally didn't intend for this part to be so long. And it was supposed to be funny too! Ah well, after having written the previous part, it just didn't feel right to throw in any comedy … you'll see what I mean. Thanks to those who informed me of the reporter's name on the show! I think I'll keep the name Marisa, heh. This part is dedicated to all FlackStella fans. I think they're great buddies, and deserve more interaction on the show.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

**ix. Nimitta**

"So is it just me, or are Flack and Danny acting rather _odd_, lately?" Hawkes asked.

"No, it's not just you, trust me," Stella said. She handed Hawkes a cup of hot tea, for which he murmured his thanks.

It was a slow week. A slow week signified less murders. Which was a very positive thing in Stella's view. She and Hawkes were in the breakroom, taking a short afternoon rest while waiting for results for their various lab experiments and evidence processing. The television was currently showing some music video featuring Christina Aguilera attired in an outfit even Stella thought was too much. The former ME sitting next to her at the table apparently didn't think the same.

"She can really move, can't she?" An enthralled smile curved up his full lips.

Stella smirked. "You say that about _all_ the female pop stars."

"No, _no_, just Jennifer Lopez and her booty." Hawkes made an obvious hourglass shape with his hands.

The Greek woman snickered.

A few minutes of comfortable silence and mindless television watching passed.

Hawkes drank another mouthful of his tea. Then he said, "When Flack and I were working together a few days ago, he was already behaving weirdly, but _today_ …" He paused, then gazed at Stella with. kind brown eyes full of concern. "Today is _far_ beyond weird. He was hardly like himself this morning. I would rather have weird, daydreaming Flack than depressed, quiet Flack anytime."

"Me too, Hawkes, me too."

Stella had seen the homicide detective only once, after she clocked in for her morning shift. Alarms were going off in her head when she didn't receive so much as a plain hello from Flack, and Flack _always_ greeted her with a smile whenever they crossed paths. Even on the bad days. And she had to say it, the man looked a total mess. Disheveled hair, skewed tie, rumpled suit and unshaven face? So very, _very_ un-Flack. Something wasn't right somewhere.

"What do you think is going on between them?"

Stella glanced at the former ME, an eyebrow raised. "Who? Flack and Danny?"

"Uh hmm."

She leaned her arms on the table top, mulling over what she should tell the other CSI. Mac was, so far, the only person on the team who knew her opinion on what was happening between the two aforementioned detectives. She'd been bowled over by Mac's incredibly blasé reaction to the idea of Flack and Danny being secret lovers. He clearly assumed she was jesting.

Stella smirked faintly. She wondered what Mac would say if she told him she'd overheard Flack and Danny going at it big time in the locker room over a year ago. He wouldn't be so composed _then_.

Time to find out what Hawkes thought.

"I think they're sleeping together."

It was pretty amusing how the man looked exactly like one of those Japanese animated cartoon characters, with his eyes bugged out like that.

" … what?"

"I think they're sleeping together. You know. In a relationship."

Hawkes stared at her some more, and then burst into a thunderous laugh.

"_What! Flack_ and _Danny!_"

"Yep." Stella stayed calm, tapping one finger on the smooth table surface.

"You're - you're very funny, Stella." Hawkes wiped at his eyes and face, still chuckling. "Danny has _girlfriends_, you know."

"Like Cindy?"

"Yes, _Cindy_. I _know_, she called him while we were investigating that - that case where the dead body had an entire chapter of a story written on it!"

"Uh huh." Stella puckered her lips, then looked pointedly at Hawkes. "Did Danny answer it?"

"Hmm." Hawkes' brow puckered a little in reflection. "If I remember correctly … no, he said he would call her back. We _were_ about to interview a potential suspect at the time."

"Uh hm. And have you ever _seen_ her in _person_? At all? Or any of his _other_ girlfriends?"

Her questions stumped the other CSI.

"Uhm … actually." Hawkes started to appear doubtful. "No, I haven't. Then again, Danny and I aren't _that_ close. He's never met _my_ girlfriend either."

"But you have a _picture_ of her in your wallet." The Greek woman propped her chin on one hand, brows raised and eyes narrowed in a knowing look.

The former ME opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it once more and said, "Well, I … I love her very much. Of _course _I'd have a picture of her with me at all times." He shrugged. "Not _every_ guy likes to carry a picture of their significant other … in their … wallet."

Stella stared meaningfully at him.

"I … well …" Hawkes was at a loss of words for a second. "_Okay_, so maybe it _is_ strange Danny doesn't talk about Cindy at all, or that he doesn't have a picture of her in his wallet somewhere."

He made a face at Stella's impish smirk.

"Yes, I took a look at his wallet, _alright?_" Hawkes wagged a finger. "But _only_ because he saw a picture of my girlfriend and asked about her, _and_ I asked him about his."

"And what did he say?"

"Uhm. He … he said she was _fine_."

"Fine. That's it?"

Hawkes waved his hands about. "I - I guess Danny's not the type to share things about his relationships! And he _did _mention he preferred to keep pictures of her at home." He suddenly put one finger against his lips, staring into the distance as if he was recollecting something. "You know … he _did_ have photos in his wallet."

He tapped the finger against his pursed lips. "Yeah … I remember. It was a picture of him and … Flack. You know, at that charity event, where Mac was one of the honored guests?"

"_Uh hmmmm_." Stella's smirk was a broad grin now.

Hawkes' eyes narrowed. "Stella, that _doesn't_ mean they're _sleeping_ together!"

"Well … do _you_ keep photos of Flack in your wallet? Or _Mac?_"

"I … you …" Hawkes spluttered. "_No_, I don't, but -"

Stella was on a roll. "So you _don't_ think it's strange Danny has a picture of _Flack_ in his wallet?"

"Well … I … _he_ -" He scratched at his chin. "I don't know. Maybe it was a memorable event to him or something. People have the right to keep whatever pictures they want in their wallets, you know!"

Stella stared at Hawkes pointedly for the second time.

The man began to fidget under her intense gaze.

"Okay … maybe … maybe it _is_ strange there's a picture of Flack in his wallet." Hawkes perked up in his seat, returning Stella's stare with equal gusto. "But there's _Cindy! _Ah _hah!_"

Stella was hardly daunted. "And Danny has no picture of this Cindy person. But he has a picture of _Flack_ in his wallet instead."

Hawkes had a confounded frown on his mien again. He scratched at his chin some more.

"I know she still calls him! In fact, I saw the caller ID on his phone for myself!" The man crossed his arms over his chest. "She called him _eleven_ times just a few days ago!"

"Cindy doesn't exist."

"Huh?"

Stella smirked puckishly. "_Cindy_ is just a nickname Danny gave _Flack_. Cindy _is _Flack."

Hawkes had gone back to staring at Stella with a flabbergasted expression. "Stella. I think you need help."

"Yeah. Mac told me that too."

The man chortled uncontrollably at her statement. "Cindy. Is _Flack_. That's a _good_ one."

The door of the breakroom opened.

"Hey, guys."

Stella and Hawkes turned their heads in unison to see Lindsay approach the table.

"Hey, Lindsay. Have a seat," Hawkes said with a smile.

Lindsay smiled back at them and hopped onto a stool next to Hawkes. She had a silver thermos flask in her hands.

"What are you guys talking about?"

Hawkes glanced at Stella from the corners of his eyes. She was doing the same to him. Ever since Hammerback tattled around that Danny had some sort of crush on Lindsay and vice versa, Stella and Hawkes had been careful of chatting about Danny in front of the newcomer.

Even more so when Flack happened to be in the vicinity as well.

Stella had needed just one such conversation some months ago to figure out the homicide detective utterly loathed any gossip regarding Danny's love life. The expression on the guy's face when Lindsay inquired whether Danny was single and available was _priceless_. Stella really wished she had a camera right there and then. It would be all the proof she required to show Mac she was right about the two detectives.

"Nothing much. Just Mac's green Argyle socks," Stella said nonchalantly.

Lindsay giggled. "Mac wears _Argyle socks?_"

"Yeah, you should see the _bright red _ones. With white stripes."

Even Hawkes chuckled at that.

There was another quiet period in the room that lasted for about three minutes of television watching. Hawkes had finished his tea, and Stella was halfway through her cup when Lindsay tentatively spoke up, her thermos flask still closed.

"Have any of you talked with Danny today?"

"Nope, haven't seen him all day, now that I think about it," Hawkes responded.

Stella blinked. Wait. She hadn't seen the younger CSI around the whole day either.

"No, I haven't seen him too. Why do you ask?"

"Well … I just saw him. About ten minutes ago." Lindsay glanced from Hawkes to Stella, her brows low in a worried manner. "He looked really rough. His eyes were all red and swollen. I thought - I thought he was _unwell_ or something."

She faltered for a minute.

"But he wouldn't talk to me, and then … Flack came into the lab, and I just got out as quick as I could."

"What do you mean?" Stella asked, frowning.

"It - it seemed like they were going to _fight_." Lindsay bit her lip. "Danny got angry, wouldn't even let Flack _near_ him ... He became really upset when Flack tried to grab his arm. That's all I saw before I left."

Something inside Stella's chest clenched. Hawkes appeared bothered by Lindsay's account too. Flack and Danny … _fighting? _That was _really_ bad news. She swiftly got to her feet, her green eyes blazing.

"Which lab is it?"

"It's the one where the new computers were brought in, near Mac's office."

Stella was nearly out of the break room by the time the last word came out of Lindsay's mouth. She marched down the hallway, her beautiful countenance set in a determined, solemn expression. She had absolutely no idea what to anticipate once she reached the lab where the two detectives supposedly were.

Flack and Danny were two very hot-headed men, Danny much more so than the homicide detective. They already charged their surroundings with energy merely by being in close proximity of each other. And that was when they were relaxed and in high spirits. If they ever got into a fistfight or anything close to one … _explosive_ would be too mild a word to describe the resulting situation.

"Stella."

"Mac!" She hurried to her CSI partner's side. "What's happening?"

Mac was standing a little less than a dozen feet away from the semi-open door of the lab, on a spot where he had a fractional view of what was going on inside. He had a grim expression on his visage, the one he had whenever something bad was going down.

"I heard someone yelling." He swiveled his head to look at her. "I was afraid it was going to be Danny."

Stella instantaneously headed for the half-open door, but Mac halted her with a hand wrapped around her wrist.

"Hold on. Let's wait and see if things go beyond talking."

Stella loosened up a little upon hearing the other CSI use the word _talking_. That meant the two men weren't getting physically violent. Yet. She stood very close to Mac, brushing against his back as she looked over his shoulder to see inside the lab.

Uh oh. Lindsay wasn't kidding when she said Danny looked rough. It showed mainly on the bespectacled man's face. Danny was much paler than normal, his lips drawn into a thin line, the skin around his eyes red and puffy. Stella could tell the man's eyes were bloodshot behind his glasses, even as far away as she was.

"Don't _touch_ me, okay! Just _don't_."

Danny's voice was hoarse. Mac had been right about Danny shouting earlier. The younger CSI was rubbing at his upper arms, shoulders hunched, pacing to and fro in a frenzied way.

"_Danny_ -"

Through the gap of the partially open door, Stella saw an arm reach out to the upset man. Flack's arm.

"_Don't touch me!_"

The last time she'd seen Danny this distraught was during the Minhaus shooting a year ago. It actually pained her to see the man in such distress all over again. She had felt awful for a long time after the incident for not being there for her co-worker and friend during one of his darkest hours.

"Danny, ya gotta _listen_ to me, it's _not _what ya _think_ -"

"I _know_ what I heard, Don! _Don't_ bullshit me! I'm _not_ stupid!"

"Danny, _please_, just _listen_ to me! She's _not_ -"

All of a sudden, Danny turned on Flack, advancing on the homicide detective and disappearing from Stella's limited sight through the gap.

"_I don't wanna know! Okay! _I don't wanna know _anythin'_ 'bout her!"

There was a piercing noise, like a glass beaker smashing on the floor.

"Danny - _damnit! Just _-"

"I don't wanna talk with you anymore ... I don't want _anythin'_ to do with you anymore." The blue-eyed CSI's voice broke. "You're just like all the _rest_ … _just leave me the fuck ALONE_!"

Stella felt Mac clutching her wrist once more.

"Mac, wha -"

"_Come on_." The ex-Marine pulled at her arm and led her a few doors down the corridor.

They dashed into Mac's glass-walled office just in time to avoid a confrontation with a very agitated, unhappy Danny. He'd stomped out the lab with a bang of the door, and was now running in the opposite direction down the hallway from them. Stella no longer had to guess what it was that made Danny's eyes so red and swollen.

Two minutes later, Flack emerged too, looking as rough as the departing CSI did, if not more. His pin-striped jacket was unbuttoned, and there were wet patches on the lower right leg of his trousers. Whatever liquid it was, it must have gotten onto him after Danny smashed that beaker in the lab. Unlike Danny, he shuffled away like an old, feeble man, a man who'd lost everything precious to him in a heartbeat.

Flack was so out of it, he scarcely acknowledged Mac and Stella as he shambled past Mac's office. Stella's anxious eyes followed him through the glass walls. She swallowed visibly.

It was the first time she had ever seen the strong, young detective weep.

"I'll go talk to Danny," Mac said quietly.

Stella gazed at her CSI partner's somber face. Mac's hazel eyes shone brightly in the afternoon sunshine. She wanted to run a hand down his handsome face, to stroke away the troubled scowl from his features. To kiss him on his lips rather than just his cheek. To tell him he was the man she really wanted to be with more than anyone else.

But not yet. It wasn't the right time.

"There's only one place he'll end up, going down this corridor," Mac added.

"The men's restroom," Stella replied.

Mac nodded. "You can handle Flack?"

"Yeah." She gave him a small smile. "I think he'll open up to me."

They stood in the middle of the office, facing each other, unmoving. Stella held her breath. Mac's face was merely inches away from hers. And he was staring at her in a way she'd never noticed him do before. Was he -

"Let me know how it goes," Mac murmured.

"Okay."

The hazel-eyed detective looked into her eyes for another moment, then moved to the open doorway of the room. She watched him walk out of sight, a soft smile on her face. While a substantial part of her was sympathizing for Danny and Flack's current plight, another part of her was also feeling like it was floating on cloud nine.

Sure. She could've simply been seeing things that weren't there in Mac's eyes. In spite of that, there was the tiniest hope in her heart now.

That Mac might feel the same way about her … like she did about him.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Flack was alone in the locker room, sitting on the bench between the two rows of lockers, his head in his hands and his elbows on knees. His jacket was tossed to the side, half-hanging off the edge of the bench. The sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up to the top of his sinewy forearms.

The man was motionless as a statue. Solid like stone.

Stella silently stepped inside, gently closing the door behind her. She was confident Flack would welcome her presence, but she could never be too careful. It wasn't everyday that Flack showed up appearing and behaving the way he did. She didn't have a clue what his state of mind was at the moment, and his face concealed the way it was wasn't very helpful to her.

"Flack?"

There was no answer.

She cautiously came up to the eerily quiet homicide detective with unhurried steps. Stood beside him, hoping he would look up at her and say something.

Half a minute passed.

"Don?"

Nothing.

It was as if Flack wasn't even alive.

After a second's indecision, Stella laid a hand on his shoulder.

No response, apart from a teeny shudder of his body.

Stella slowly sat down next to the younger man.

"Hey." She stroked the back of his head in a maternal fashion. "You want to talk about it?"

It was exceedingly quiet in the locker room.

Flack seemed to not have heard her at all.

She continued to stroke his head, squeezing the back of his neck once. Whoa, the guy was _really_ tense.

At long last, Flack uttered a single, muffled word.

"No."

He wouldn't remove his hands from his face.

Stella sighed. She knew Flack long enough to know how obstinate the man could become. If he didn't want to talk, he wouldn't. Once he had his mind set on something, there was nothing that could steer him on a different course.

Well, _almost_ nothing.

"Okay." She slapped her hands on her thighs in an outwardly resigned manner, then said casually, "Guess I should _congratulate_ you then."

Flack shifted his hands very slightly, down his face so his eyes were exposed. They stared ahead, uncertainty growing in the blue depths.

"You know," Stella went on. "On your new girlfriend."

That brought out a violent reaction from Flack. He yanked his hands away from his face, glaring at Stella with extremely wide, searing eyes.

"_What?_"

Ah _hah_, she was right after all. Danny and Flack's argument earlier on _did_ have something to do with the latest rumors going around the labs today.

"Your new girlfriend … you know, that blonde reporter from, what was it, the _New York Times?_"

For a moment, Stella thought Flack was actually going to hit her, and she froze where she sat, ready to leap away to safety. Then, the rage drained out of the man as swiftly as it materialized, leaving Flack slumped forward, his hands now wrapped behind his neck and bowed head.

"Who told ya that?" Flack's voice was gravelly and barely audible.

Stella yearned to give Flack a hug, except she couldn't. Not yet. She had to keep pushing him now if she wanted him to open up and talk to her about what was going on between him and Danny.

"Everybody's talking about it. That you went on a date with her, to Serafina." She whistled. "Classy place."

Flack didn't say anything for a few minutes.

"That self-centered _bitch_ is _not_ my girlfriend."

Stella privately sighed in vast relief. Thank God for _that_. She didn't know Marisa Clarke personally, although she'd heard a lot about her. Everything _bad_. She undoubtedly didn't deserve a man like Flack.

"So it's not true."

"_No_."

After a couple of minutes, Flack sat upright and faced her on the bench. His eyes were red and glistening, his lips downturned in anguish.

"_Everybody?_"

Stella knew what he was asking. "Well. Just the labs. I don't know who else knows, or who spread the news in the first place."

Flack rubbed at his face distractedly. "_Motherfucker_."

"Don … what's going on between you and Danny?"

The younger detective instantly shot to his feet, folding his arms in front of him.

"_Nothing's_ going on, Stell. Really."

"Nothing?" Stella shrugged. "Yeah, I guess … if you mean Danny looking like he bawled his eyes out for the last _twelve hours _and you looking like somebody tore up your insides with a _fork_ is _nothing_."

Flack was repeatedly pacing from one end of the room to the other. It was so much like Danny's behavior that it startled her for a moment. Whoever said lovers eventually adopted each other's habits and mannerisms had a valid point.

She waited for a verbal reply.

When he didn't give any, she sighed again. Okay. She hated to do this.

"_Don_," Stella said firmly. "If you don't _talk_ to me _right now_, I'm going to _Mac_."

He kept pacing, running one hand through his unkempt hair.

"And I'll tell him about you and Danny. That you two have been in a _secret relationship _for the past _year_."

Flack skidded to a stop before her.

Today was the first day Stella had ever seen Flack shed tears. Now, she also recorded it as the first day she had ever seen such abject terror on the guy who once had a solo showdown with _five_ armed robbers.

"Stella … _you_ …" Flack sucked in a deep breath. Covered his mouth with a hand. All the color had seeped from his face.

Stella was detesting herself a lot for causing her friend more pain. But she didn't allow it to show. Flack still hadn't owned up for himself that he really was in a relationship with Danny. The discussion couldn't move forward until he did so.

"I'm _right_, aren't I?"

The homicide detective stood stock still, his fingers digging into his face. His breaths were loud in the room. He stared at her with frightened eyes, and then, she literally saw the fight go out of him, like a candlelight snuffed out. He fell back heavily against a locker, his arms down at his sides. The clanging sound echoed loudly.

"Yes," Flack rasped.

He swallowed hard.

"We _were_ together."

There was so much misery in those words it hurt Stella merely to hear them.

"_Please don't tell Mac_," Flack implored. He was sitting on the floor now, his long legs doubled up in front of him. He looked like a lost, little boy who suddenly had no place to call home.

"If you tell Mac, Danny'll get into _trouble_. Everythin' will be blown wide open … and - and …" Flack's breaths were uneven. "Look, it was all _my_ idea, 'kay? The whole thing, _my_ idea. Ya can call me _faggot_ as much as ya want, _hate_ me, I don't care … just leave Danny outta it, _'kay?_"

Stella stared at the man in shock. _Faggot? _Did Flack really think she would discriminate him solely because he was in a relationship with someone of the same gender? _Hate_ him for it?

"_Please_, just leave him outta it. Put it on _me_ … I can handle whatever gets dished out."

He let his head fall forwards onto his knees.

"Wouldn't be the first time anyway," Flack said in a small voice.

Stella had to blink numerous times to clear her vision. It never occurred to her that Flack would presume the worst possible outcome should the rest of the team discover his undisclosed relationship with Danny. The way she was goading him all this time, the guy _had_ to be thinking she found their liaison _repugnant_ or something.

"Oh, Don."

She knelt on the floor and finally embraced him like she ached to. Stella expected him to resist, or punch her, even. Instead, he leaned into her, limp and overwhelmed, head tucked under her chin. She patted his head, brushing the dark tufts of his hair.

"You really love him, don't you?"

Flack slowly pushed himself up, staying within her arms, to look her in the eye. His bloodshot eyes were filled with revelation.

"You … ya don't …"

"Hate you? Of course not. Of _course_ not, Don," Stella said with an understanding smile. "You think I'd hate you over something as _trivial_ as you being in a relationship with another _man?_"

"I …" Flack didn't seem to know what to say.

"C'mon." Stella stood up and tugged on Flack's arm. "Sit on the bench with me."

The homicide detective appeared stunned silly. At least some color was returning to the sallow face. The sadness in those large eyes wasn't as palpable anymore. It was still there, but it wasn't as devastating as it was before.

"I'm sorry if I went over the top," Stella said tenderly. "You would have never said anything about your relationship with Danny if I hadn't."

The ends of Flack's lips curved up a bit. He shook his head.

"You're really close to Mac and … I - I didn't know how you'd feel 'bout … what Danny and I got goin' on."

Stella nodded in consideration. She couldn't blame Flack for keeping things quiet. Law enforcement was often not very kind to those in the force who were openly gay. She studied the younger detective's profile.

_Hmmm_. She angled her head. Could Flack and Danny really be considered gay, if they were attracted to women as well? Based on what Flack blurted out moments ago, it was quite likely he had been a player for both sides for some time. And gotten burnt for it.

"Tell me from the beginning," Stella said.

"The … beginning? You mean … about me and Danny?"

"Uh hmm. That is, if you want to."

Flack fiddled with his tie for a little while. "I'm - I'm not sure where to start."

"Start wherever you like."

Stella patiently waited for the man to gather his thoughts. Their talk was going far above her expectations. Had she known how much worry and unfounded fears Flack had bottled up inside him about his relationship with Danny, she would have made him open up about it _ages_ ago. It amazed her now how the two men had managed to hide things behind the curtains so effectively for so long.

She had a hunch Flack had been dying to tell someone about everything for a very long time too.

"Okay, when did you two become …"

"Official?" Flack asked with a tiny smirk.

"Yeah, official," Stella said, her eyes crinkled. It was good to see Flack smiling once more.

"I guess it was … when we were investigatin' that case where that beauty queen's friend got killed in her apartment. When you guys were workin' on the circus body bender case."

Stella grinned. Hah, she _knew_ it!

"I mean, it didn't happen like I _planned_ it or anythin'. I dunno." Flack scratched his neck. "I guess part a' me wanted somethin' to happen. I've always … felt like there was somethin' between us, ya know? Somethin' _good_. For the longest time, I didn't know what to feel 'bout things … Danny's … he's the first guy I've ever … well."

The Greek CSI smiled in encouragement.

"I guess he's the first guy I've ever fallen in love with." He blushed deep red upon his declaration.

Stella took his hand and squeezed it. _Awww_. Flack was seriously adorable when he blushed.

The physical contact somehow persuaded him to carry on.

"I've never been able to stop myself from lookin' at him all the time … from the moment I _met_ him. He's real easy on the eyes." Flack chuckled. "At first, I didn't think he'd even notice. He had a girlfriend at the time too. I think they broke up a little while after we first met. She was some woman he complained 'bout who talked too much." He ducked his head, going red again.

"One a' the things he said he liked 'bout me was that I didn't blabber. That I always said the perfect words when the time was right. I never forgot that."

The homicide detective was beginning to get lost in his storytelling.

"So, we were in the locker room, right here, after we nabbed the perp who killed the girl in her friend's apartment … I remember, I was hungry after all our talk 'bout _loomi_ and _sandwiches_ and stuff. And it was just me and him, and I turned to Danny and said, 'Hey, ya wanna grab somethin' to eat?' … He was starin' at me like _I_ was what he wanted for dinner."

"And outta the blue, he slammed me up 'gainst the lockers and _kissed_ me." Flack's handsome mien became even redder. He avoided looking at Stella, staring at the floor near his feet. "Took me by complete surprise."

Stella had to snicker at Flack's choice of words.

As impossible as it was, his face turned such a deep crimson, he looked like a plum.

"I meant the _kiss_ surprised me!"

Her snigger transformed into a laugh.

"What the heck." Flack began to laugh too. "_I_ was the one who took him anyway."

Stella gasped, though she was still smiling.

"Yeah, well, that's _all_ you're gonna get from me 'bout _that!_"

She chuckled mischievously. Damn, she wanted the dirty details so much.

The lanky homicide detective continued his narration once they both quietened down.

"After that … things just fell into place. It was good. _We_ were good." Flack had a fond smile on his face. "We just … _clicked_, ya know? Sure, there were some things 'bout him that drove me nuts, but there was stuff 'bout _me_ that drove _him_ nuts too, so we were even."

"Danny was pretty paranoid 'bout anyone findin' out 'bout us, so we were real careful. I'd mostly meet up with him at his place in the evenin' after work or when we had off days … Sometimes we'd go out for movies and all that. But most a' the time, we stayed in."

Flack was flushed once more. It wasn't necessary for him to explain what activities they partook while indoors.

"The first couple a' months, he got so paranoid, he'd list my number under a random _female_ name every month … just to make sure nobody thought anythin' funny was goin' on if I kept callin' him."

"Like … _Cindy?_"

The blue-eyed man grimaced. "Ah, _geez_ … ya figured that out, huh?"

"Uh huh." Stella smirked. "_Eleven_ times, Don? Even _teenagers_ don't call each other that much."

"What, I _missed _him, okay? I wanted to talk to him anyway."

Flack loosened the tie from around his neck, and rolled it up into a ball between his palms.

"So, yeah, apart from that, everythin' was _great_. It was … perfect." Gradually, his handsome mien became suffused with despondency. "Where did I go wrong?"

Stella moved closer to him, resting an arm around his hunched shoulders.

"When did you start feeling things were going wrong?"

The homicide detective glanced at her, then looked downwards at the floor again. "'Bout a week ago. Everythin' was fantastic 'fore then."

"A week ago? What happened a week ago?"

Flack huffed out a sardonic laugh. "Danny felt it was a good idea to impose a week of _celibacy_ on me."

Stella's lower jaw sagged. She couldn't help chuckling. "You're kidding, right?"

"Nope." Flack shook his head from side to side, looking bashful. "I dunno what happened. All these months, we were - we were havin' the _best_ sex _ever_. Like, half a _dozen_ times a day, at least."

One of her eyebrows shot up at that. _Wow_, where the heck did they find the time to do it _that_ many times in a day! And with their work schedule the way it was too!

"Oh _shit_, that was too much information." Flack cackled nervously, squirming where he sat.

"Well, I'm _impressed_."

Flack was redder than a strawberry.

"So." Stella patted him on the hand. "Why did Danny put you up to that then?"

"I dunno. I really don't." He scratched the side of his head, frowning mildly. "Like I said, things were just fine … Then, outta nowhere, he comes up with this _challenge_ that I not have sex with him for an entire _week_. I've been tryin' to figure out why, but I just can't think a' any reason."

Flack poked the air with one forefinger in a gesture of making a point. "And things were _still_ good, _extreme_ sexual frustration aside." He sighed heavily. "Until last night."

"The New York Times reporter and Serafina dinner?"

"Yeah." Flack sighed again. "She came to my precinct, said she wanted to discuss some of my cases over dinner. Said it was her treat … and that after that dinner, she'd leave me alone for _good_. So I said yes."

"Oh, Don."

"Stell, I thought it was a _good_ idea at the time!" He twisted his body so he was facing her more. "I mean, I … she said it was just _one_ dinner, _one dinner_, and I'd _never_ have to see her face again. I just wanted to get rid of her … didn't want her to shove her nose into my private life and find out 'bout Danny. Danny's already had _enough_ trouble as it is … don't need some nosy reporter diggin' up details of his life that's nobody's business but ours."

She smiled sympathetically.

The homicide detective returned to the head in hands and elbows on knees position. His balled up tie rolled onto the floor. "I thought … I thought the dinner was gonna be _fast_ and purely _professional_. That's why I didn't mention it to Danny. 'Cos I knew it'd upset him too. He'd mope 'bout it the whole day or somethin'. And I never thought people would think it was a fuckin' _date_ or anythin' like that … She was _awful_, Stella. Yeah, she was pretty on the outside, but she was ugly as _hell_ inside."

Flack exhaled audibly.

"Danny called me halfway through the dinner."

Stella grimaced.

"_Yeah_."

"Oh, _Don_."

"Yeah, I _fucked up_, I know." He ran long fingers through his shorn hair. "I was gonna tell him then 'bout the dinner, 'bout the whole day but Clarke … the reporter, she came back to the table after goin' to the restroom. And of all the things she did, she called me by my first name!" He sat up, waving one finger about, his visage dour. "I _never_ said she could do that. And the whole evenin', she was callin' me Detective Flack anyway. I dunno what the hell was up with her suddenly changin' tunes while I was on the phone with Danny."

The Greek woman was seeing the big picture now. Boy, this Clarke was a cunning one. Misleading Flack into a dinner that was, in truth, a disguise for a prospective first date. Evidently, the journalist must have been researching the homicide detective for quite a while. Flack was very touchy about people calling him Don, his first name. The only people who were permitted to do so were those close to him. People he trusted and cared about.

Stella was privileged to be one of them.

"She _knew_ you were talking to Danny?"

He rubbed at his neck. "I dunno … I guess so. She wanted to know who Danny was. 'Course I didn't tell her anythin'."

"She knew you were talking to Danny, and she called you Don right then and there. And now … Danny believes that you've been cheating on him."

"Yeah." The younger man's lips were shaped like an upside-down 'U'.

"Has she contacted you since?"

"Fuck, _no_," Flack growled. "She'd be _stupid_ to … what with me havin' promised I'd _carve_ her a new face if she ever dared to come lookin' for me again" He scowled ferociously. "Or call Danny a _fag slut_."

"I get to join in the carving fun, right?"

Flack smirked. "Get in line."

"So what happened after the dinner?"

"Drove like a friggin' nut to Danny's apartment. I knew he was in, 'cos I could hear him. He wouldn't let me in or talk to me." The tall detective rubbed at his sore eyes. "Sat outside his door until … I dunno, _four_ in the mornin'? Then Mrs. Penrose, his neighbor, felt sorry for me and took me in."

He paused.

"When I woke up, I was too late. He already left for work by then. Didn't bother goin' back to my apartment … came here to the labs straight away, thinkin' I could see him here, ya know? But I couldn't find him anywhere … so I wandered around. Ended up at my precinct, and my captain took one look at me and told me to go home and clean up."

He made a faint coughing sound. His voice was becoming croaky.

"I dunno, somehow, I ended up back here again. I don't even remember drivin'. Finally found him in one of the computer rooms just now, with Monroe. It got really bad. He … he wouldn't talk to me, or hear me out. I never seen him so _upset_ before. He got so mad, he threw one of them beakers at me."

Flack became very still.

"Told me he didn't wanna have _anythin'_ at all to do with me anymore. And he just ran outta there 'fore I could tell him the _truth_."

The homicide detective hid his face behind his hands.

"_He hates me_," Flack concluded in a small, pained voice.

Stella stroked Flack's upper arm in a comforting manner. It was ironic to her that this was the _strongest_ she had ever seen Flack be. Acting like the standard macho man was easy. Anyone could grow a shell of arrogance and strut around like a proud, untouchable peacock with practice and a little bit of time. However, for a guy like Flack to pour his heart out this way, to confess things that could very well cost him his career and future? That he was willing to endure whatever persecution and torment that stemmed from his confession, for the sake of the one he loved?

That took a special kind of person, no matter what gender.

"I doubt that Danny wants you out of his life. I doubt that very much."

"You didn't see his face, Stell." Flack's voice was stifled by his hands. "He was so _angry_. And he _said_ it himself."

"People say hurtful things when they're in pain, Don," Stella said kindly. "In his mind, he's _already_ lost you. That's why he's so upset."

"He _hasn't_." The homicide detective straightened up. His blue eyes were wet. "But he won't _listen_ to me. How can I tell him that if he won't listen?"

Stella gripped his hand in hers. "Don, do you remember the Minhaus shooting?"

"Yeah … _yeah_, of _course_ I remember that. Everybody was puttin' the blame on Danny for the guy's death." Flack fidgeted on the bench, frowning. "He was all uptight and paranoid of everyone … hell, he was suspicious even of _me_. Like he couldn't trust me or somethin'."

He shook his head.

"Man, he got so mad when I tried to convince him Mac had his back. Just walked out on me like he had nobody on his side anymore."

"But you guys made up eventually, _right?_"

Stella's question got Flack cogitating in silence.

"Yeah. We did. After the whole thing went down and cooled, he came to my apartment and apologized to me for actin' like an asshole." He smirked faintly. "And then he apologized _four_ more times after that."

The CSI snickered at his statement. Flack's sense of humor was slowly making its comeback.

"So what makes you think _this_ is it for you?"

Flack glanced sharply at her. "Well, the Minhaus shooting was _different_."

"Don. Danny was accused of _killing a man_. I think that's _way_ worse a situation for him to experience than him suspecting his lover was having affair behind his back. _Suspecting_, Don." Stella lifted her refined eyebrows. "You know what he's like. The supreme _drama queen_. When he's trapped in a nasty situation, his imagination gets the best of him every time. Trust me, if he was _absolutely_ sure you cheated on him … you'd be _dead _by now."

The lanky detective laughed gruffly.

"Huh. Never saw it that way 'fore." Flack gave her a scrutinizing look. "How can ya be so sure that he … that he still _wants_ me?"

Stella smiled broadly.

"I've seen the way he stares at you, the same way you stare at him."

The handsome man dipped his head, unshaven face rapidly becoming flushed. "Heh. I did say he was real easy on the eyes."

Stella ruffled his hair affectionately. "And obviously, he feels the same about you too."

Flack picked up his tie from the floor, toying with it. "I dunno what to do now, Stella."

"You wait."

He looked at her, blue eyes attentive.

"Give him some time," Stella said. "Both of you are edgy and stressed out right now. Maybe a time-out will help Danny to sort out his thoughts. He's a smart guy … if he's learned _anything_ from the Minhaus incident, he'll know better than to jump to conclusions without searching out _all_ the details first."

Before Flack could respond, she added, "Don't think about what he said. Think about _why_ he said what he did."

The homicide detective blinked.

"Ya know, when we were arguin' … he said, I was just like the _rest_," Flack muttered. "Danny never talked much about his previous relationships ... Maybe … _maybe_ that's why he did it."

His gaze flitted here and there, his eyes widening in comprehension.

"No sex … I got it. I _got_ it! He issued the challenge 'cos he - he wanted to know if our relationship would _last_ without it! That's why he asked … _that's _why he asked me whether sex was all there was to it that day …"

Flack suddenly threw up his arms, looking horrified. "Oh, _fuck!_ That means, what he's _really_ upset 'bout is …" His long arms flopped onto his lap. "He thinks it's _his_ fault I ended up goin' out with somebody else. 'Cos of the _stupid_ _challenge_."

He slapped his forehead. "Stupid, fuckin' _challenge_. And _tomorrow's_ the _final day _too!"

Stella had her arms crossed over her chest. She had a satisfied smile on her lips.

"_See? _Told you all you needed was a little bit of time to think things out."

"_Stell_." Flack was now sitting ramrod straight, a _very_ determined expression on his visage. He gesticulated wildly with his hands. "I gotta plan somethin' _good_ for Danny. I gotta … I gotta buy him some a' that Belgium and Swiss chocolate he loves so much. _Yeah_, that's it, and I'll sit outside his apartment door the whole _night_ if I have to. I mean, he's gotta go home sooner or later, _right?_"

The Greek woman grinned at him. _Yes_, the good, old Flack she knew was back in town!

"Tomorrow."

"Huh? Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow," Stella replied. "You should go home and clean yourself up, like your captain said. You look like _hell_."

Flack touched his lower jaw and chin self-consciously. He already had a beard shadow.

"Give him time, remember? Let him cool off."

"Yeah. Yeah, okay." The tall detective scratched his chin.

"Tell you what. I'll find out from Mac what Danny says to him, and I'll let you know."

"Mac's talkin' to Danny right now?"

"Uh hmm."

Flack grimaced. "Oh, man. Danny's gonna need _serious_ coolin' off time after _that_."

"_Exactly_," Stella conceded. "So _you_, go home, and don't worry about things. I promise I'll give you a call as soon as I see Mac again and hear Danny's side of the story, okay?"

He stared at her for some time. Those blue eyes were moist once more.

"Thanks, Stella."

She hugged him tightly, stroking the back of his head, and kissed him once on the cheek.

"It'll be okay, don't worry. You do what you have to do."

After a few minutes, Flack broke their embrace. He leaned backwards, appearing leagues better than he was earlier today. Stella lovingly pinched one of his cheeks.

"Go _get_ him, tiger."

A magnificent smile that was bright as the sun lit up Flack's features.

"Don Flack, Jr. always gets his man."


	9. Part 9

**One Week**

Fandom: CSI:NY

Author: Kimmychu

Rating: FRAO (we're talkin' Karma Sutra-rating here)

Pairing: Danny/Flack

Content Warning: Major sexual tension, Flack-snark overload, dirty thoughts. Lotsa dirty thoughts.

Spoilers: Meh, nothing important, but to be safe, post Season 2.

Summary: Danny and Flack love to dance the horizontal tango. Everyday. Three times a day. And night. But one day, Flack says yes, and Danny says no. What will Flack the sex maniac do when his lover gives him the ultimatum of no sex … for one whole week?

Disclaimer: YES, THEY BELONG TO ME - I mean, why, of course not, they're just fictional … hot … characters. Mmm, hot.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Author's Notes: Ahh, I was distracted by some fandom drama for a little while ... But not to worry, I'm back in a good writing mood! Oh yes. Things are about to get _mighty_ interesting for our boys …

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

**x. Gardabha**

There was water in his eyes again.

Danny rubbed them with the back of his hand, scowling deeply. _Shit_, where was the water _coming_ from? He was getting tired of rubbing his eyes over and over.

"_Fuck_," Danny murmured in a small voice.

He stood where he was in front of his open fridge, one hand covering his eyes, the other holding the door at its top corner. The water was on his face now, strangely hot and salty to the taste. He wiped at his face with the palm of his hand. Let the chilled air dry his cheeks. His eyes were feeling really sore. Maybe he was coming down with a flu or something. Danny swore under his breath a second time, removed his hand from his face and resumed checking out the insides of his fridge.

There was barely anything inside, except for some leftover cartons of Chinese food, a half-loaf of bread and an almost empty, plastic cup of bright orange jello.

Danny froze to the spot. Stared at the translucent jelly with wide eyes.

"_Danny … I thought ya hated orange jello."_

He shut his eyes. Damnit, there was water in them again.

"_Whoa, wait! Ohh, damn … that's cold! Wha - what are ya doin' … uuhhhh …"_

Danny swallowed visibly. The taste of orange was suddenly so powerful on his tongue. And there was another taste, one that he'd know no matter where he was.

"_Oh … oh, man …"_

"_Ya like that? Ya like that, Don?"_

"_Yeeaah."_

He had no idea how long he stood there in front of his fridge, looking at the jello through heavily blurred vision.

"_Ya know, I guess orange jello isn't too bad after all."_

Was it too long if he couldn't feel his heart anymore?

"_Heh. There's only one thing that'll always taste mighty good to me, Danny. That's you."_

With a suppressed cry, he seized the cup of jelly, and was already about to hurl it into the trash bin nearby. It stayed in the air, crushed in his fisted grip. For some reason, he couldn't swing his trembling arm down. Without his glasses, the bin was merely a big, black blob. In fact, everything appeared like big, unidentifiable splotches of color. Stupid fucking water in his eyes. He had to be falling sick, that was it.

Danny released a shuddering breath, and with it, the rage that had been building within him. His arm fell forward, but he didn't let go of the cup. It remained in his grasp. Already forgotten as he stumbled over to a black-and-steel stool nearby and collapsed onto it. He inclined forward until his head rested on his arms on his kitchen counter, his body quivering once in a while.

Every damn thing reminded him of Flack.

He involuntarily made a sound that seemed a lot like a sob.

From the instant he woke up this morning, it was as if somebody had ripped out all his vital organs and left him a hollow shell. There was no way he'd have been capable of going to work today. He supposed he should be grateful to Mac for giving him a few days off to regain his equilibrium, as his boss and, more recently, friend put it.

But a few days wasn't going to cut it.

He wasn't even certain if a few _centuries_ was going to do it.

Danny gazed through half-lidded, wet eyes at the cup of jello that had tipped over on the marble surface of the kitchen counter.

He couldn't really remember much of what happened after he called Flack the evening before and heard that woman's voice. He'd rushed to the toilet after disconnecting the call. Did he throw up? He didn't recall that. What he did recall, was Flack banging on his apartment door, begging him to open it to let the man in. Did he yell at Flack? No, he didn't remember that either, except perhaps, the pain inside him that became so bad upon hearing the homicide detective's voice. And obviously, he had gone to sleep at some time or another. Wouldn't have woken up in his bed that morning if he hadn't.

He should have called in sick that day. He knew it had been a bad idea showing up at work. How could he _not_ have thought that Flack would look for him at the labs and corner him there?

The CSI sniffled.

Things had gone down so bad. Danny didn't have a clue why he became so violent towards Flack. He'd scared himself by throwing that beaker at the other man. If it had contained some poisonous liquid, and if it had _hurt_ Flack -

Danny's hands clenched into fists on the cold surface.

He hadn't been thinking at all.

All his mind could see then was the regret in Flack's large, blue eyes.

He didn't want to hear Flack saying goodbye.

This time, Danny didn't bother drying his eyes. He allowed the rivulets of water to trickle down from them. He didn't care anymore. There were more tears where they came from.

Danny sat there in his kitchen, with his fridge still open, for nearly an hour. Or two. He didn't know. Maybe time had stopped. It sure felt to him like he was trapped in this new, lonely hell devoid of Flack since forever.

"Stupid bastard … why did ya have to ruin the best thing ya had?"

His whisper echoed in the silent apartment.

And he had no answer at all to the question he directed at himself.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Flack was flabbergasted at the sheer number of confectionary brands available for purchase in the supermarket.

"_Geez_." He plucked up a white, rectangular box with gold filigree designs on it, squinting at the seashell-shaped chocolate inside.

Huh, was _this_ the one Danny liked?

Flack frowned. Hmm. Maybe it was the one with the almond crumbs. He couldn't recollect what the name of that particular chocolate was.

"Excuse me, sir?"

Flack raised his head to see a short brunette woman staring avidly at him. He looked her from head to toe, swiftly deducing that she had to be one of the supermarket assistants, based on her white, green and red uniform.

"Is there anything I can help you with?" The assistant, who had the name Barbara on her badge, smiled at him.

"Uh." Flack was at a loss for words. A second later, he gave her a small, polite smile. "Well, I'm lookin' for some nice chocolate for my … my girlfriend."

"Ah, I see."

Barbara was quick, just not quick enough to Flack's sharp eyes to conceal her crestfallen expression. He couldn't help smirking mirthlessly. Women, either they approached him because they just wanted a piece of him, or they approached him because they thought he had a pretty face or something. It was the same, every time.

It was quite ironic he _didn't_ enjoy that sort of attention he got from the opposite gender. He didn't want somebody who liked him only for his face or his eyes. Or his family connections. Or made him into a trophy boyfriend to show off. He had enough experiences with past girlfriends who were precisely like that to last a lifetime.

What he really wanted, was someone who was his equal. Someone who wasn't afraid of telling him off when he went off a bad tangent. Someone who made him laugh. Someone who didn't care who his New York legend of a father was. Someone who saw beyond what he had on the outside, and saw him as who he was inside. Someone who accepted him as he was.

Someone like Danny.

"How about some Lindt? They're famous for their dark chocolate, but their milk chocolate is quite good too."

"Huh?" Flack snapped out of his contemplation, and smiled at Barbara in quiet apology. "Sorry … Lindt, huh?"

The supermarket assistant smiled sincerely back at him, appearing unoffended by Flack's mind wandering off. "Yes. Or perhaps she might like Ferrero Rocher?"

"Oh, hey!" Flack took the transparent box of round chocolate balls wrapped in gold foil from Barbara's hand. "_Yeah_, I think these are the ones Da-" He coughed. "She likes."

Barbara chuckled. "Well, there you go! We have the extra large box if you'd like that."

The lanky homicide detective thought about it for a while, then said, "It's okay, I'll take this one and look around at the other brands." He smiled politely at her. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. Do let me know if you need anything else."

Flack felt her staring at him some more before she reluctantly walked away, out of view once she was at the end of the aisle and turned a corner. He let out a heavy sigh. He always did feel uncomfortable whenever he caught people staring at him, and that happened a _lot_. What the heck was it about his face that made people love looking at him so much? He didn't want to spend a lot of time ruminating on that.

All of a sudden, he felt seriously glum. He gazed down at the chocolate box he held, his lips downturned and his thick brows lowered, casting shadows over his eyes.

What the hell was he _doing? _Buying all the freaking chocolate in the world wouldn't bring Danny back to him if the guy hated his guts now. It'd just make Flack look like he was trying to buy Danny out with confectionary. Like Danny was a _girl_ or something.

And Danny was no girl.

Flack chucked the plastic box back onto the tall shelf in front of him. Wearily ran a hand down his face.

This was not working. He had to figure out something else quick.

The morose detective shuffled down the aisle, getting lost in his thoughts once more. He put his hands into the pockets of his suit trousers.

Flack knew even before Stella called him today what she would say to him about Mac and Danny's conversation yesterday. Nothing. That was exactly what Flack expected Danny to say to Mac. Nothing, nada, zilch. If he had freaked out over Stella knowing about their relationship, the chances of Danny admitting things to Mac was about as good as an ant holding up Mount Everest with its little arms. Stella had added, however, that Danny's crying and palpable distress was more than enough to worry Mac into giving the younger CSI a couple of days off to sort himself out.

And no one had heard from Danny since.

Less than five seconds after he woke up this morning, Flack was on his mobile phone pressing the speed-dial number to call Danny. He had ached like crazy within to discover he was immediately transferred to voice mail. He was probably on Danny's blocked list by now. Didn't stop him from calling Danny throughout the day, hoping the other man would quit being so stubborn and just _pick up the damn phone_.

Before he knew it, he had his cel phone held against his ear for the millionth time that day. Again, he was instantly shifted to Danny's voice mail.

"_Shit_."

Flack disconnected the call with a rough press of a button. He was _this_ close to tossing his phone at a hard, unyielding surface like a wall. Or maybe somebody's head. Even better if it was some dumbass perp who decided to pick on the wrong homicide detective at the wrong time.

He blinked.

Hey. His phone was vibrating in his hand. Somebody was calling him.

"Flack."

"Hey, Flack. Catch ya at a bad time or what?"

Flack frowned slightly in bafflement. It was his fellow detective from the precinct. What would D'Anda, of all people, want to talk to him about?

"D'Anda, what's up?"

"Just wanted to see if you've been admitted to some psych ward yet, that's all."

"Oh, yeah, _very_ funny, D'Anda. Ha ha." Flack was smiling as he said that, though. He hadn't forgotten the shocked expression on the giant detective's face when he staggered into their precinct yesterday, appearing the way he was. Damn, he must have _really_ looked awful that morning.

"So I'm guessin' you're havin' a jolly good time somewhere else then?"

"Yeah. Shoppin' for my girlfriend."

"Uh huh. Girlfriend." D'Anda's tone oozed with sarcasm.

"Yeah, ya got somethin' to say 'bout that, _hahn?_" Flack asked with a smirk. The other detective couldn't see it, but Flack wouldn't have wanted D'Anda to anyway. Would have utterly wrecked the threat in his words.

The jest in D'Anda's voice abruptly vanished.

"Flack, ya spooked a lotta us yesterday, ya know that? Comin' in to work lookin' more of a slob than _me_. Man, that's fucked in my books. Hell, even _Vicaro_ was askin' 'bout ya, and not in his usual asshole kinda way either. What's goin' on with ya?"

Flack ran a hand through his shorn hair. He had no clue whatsoever how to reply his peer.

"Look, ya ain't _alone_. If ya got problems … nothin' wrong with talkin' to somebody 'bout them. Ya don't hafta talk to the department shrink … I'm just sayin', we cops gotta look out fer each other, ya know? It ain't easy doin' what we do everyday, what with the additional shit we gotta deal with outside a' work."

Flack's throat was clogged. He hadn't anticipated this at all. He never thought for a second that any of his peers at his precinct would actually care about him.

After all, his father had hammered it into his head since he was a boy that real men didn't need anybody.

But his father wasn't right about everything, was he?

"Yeah," Flack rasped.

There was a pregnant pause.

"This is gonna stay 'tween you and me, a'right? Be honest with me here … all this gotta do with yer … partner?"

The homicide detective hesitated, then answered, "Yeah."

D'Anda sighed. "Okay. Okay. I wanna say -"

Flack steeled himself for the inevitable lashing he was about to receive.

"Good luck with solvin' whatever problems ya got with him. I hope it works out."

Flack was so shocked, the sole noise that came out of his gaping mouth was a croak.

"What? Ya thought I was gonna yell _insults_ at ya or somethin'? Tell ya I didn't wanna sit with a guy who's with another guy and _transfer_ somewhere else?" D'Anda's low chuckle rumbled in Flack's ear. "Like I said, Flack … _you ain't alone_. You understand?"

"You …" Flack blinked a few times, the tension flowing out of his body. He couldn't believe it. All this time he was sitting in front of the guy …

"Heh, well, not me. My nephew. And whaddaya know, he's a firefighter. A _decorated_ one too. How 'bout that?"

Flack huffed a tremulous chuckle. "I didn't know that."

"There're lotsa things ya don't know 'bout me, Flack. I've been married for thirty years, with three children, and two a' them are already all grown up. My oldest son wants to become a cop like me, and my second oldest son wants to be, get this, a _preacher_. And my little girl? She wants to become a social worker, to help out orphaned children."

D'Anda chuckled softly, a reverberating sound that seemed to calm Flack even more.

"The thing 'bout life is, ya never know what you're gonna get. Some people strike it lucky, and some people don't. Some people get kids who grow up to be the kinda people you and I lock up, and some people get kids who grow up choosin' to dedicatin' their lives to helping others."

Flack could tell the other detective was smiling.

"But if there's one thing everyone, and I mean _everyone_, has in common … it's the choice to use yer life for good or for evil. S'why we can be judged. 'Cos every wakin' moment we got, we're makin' choices. And sometimes, we make good ones, sometimes, we make bad ones."

"When my nephew was still a kid, I was a different man. I saw the world in black and white, thinkin' that everythin' was set in stone. I thought I knew what was right and wrong. That I had the right to judge other people just based on what I knew."

D'Anda became quiet, faltering for a moment.

"My nephew tried to kill himself when he was only thirteen years old. 'Cos his father, my brother-in-law, disowned him and kicked him outta the house after findin' out his son was gay. I was the one who found him in the bathtub, with his arms slashed from wrists to elbows. A _thirteen year old boy_, Flack."

"I found him just in time, or I'd have been attendin' a funeral twenty years ago … Seein' him that way, the blood all over him, choosin' death 'cos he believed there was nothin' left for him, it changed me. After he was released from the hospital, I knew I had a choice to make. I could choose to hate him like his family did and abandon him … or I could choose to look beyond that minor difference that set him apart, and love him still. And I chose to love him, just like my own son."

D'Anda was silent once more.

"My nephew has saved more than sixty-four people since he became an official firefighter. And I ain't boastin' 'bout myself, Flack, but I know that if I had chosen to abandon him, to hate him just 'cos he's gay, he'd probably be dead by now. Or worse."

Flack didn't need to ponder over what D'Anda meant by worse. They had histories of various victims from their case files over the years to remind them everyday that there were worse fates than death.

"All I'm sayin' is … you ain't gonna find any hate comin' from me. Only cowards choose to hate. It takes real guts to love, especially if it means you might get hurt from it, and you still do it anyway." D'Anda snorted. "And if anybody at the precinct's stupid enough to make some dumbass, bigoted comments in my face, they'll personally find out what it feels like to have one of my fists breaking in their face."

Flack laughed, a low, wet sound. He was glad he was alone in the aisle.

"Heh. I've put ya to sleep, haven't I?"

"_No_, not at all." A small smile curved up Flack's lips. "Thanks, D'Anda. I appreciate what you've told me, I do."

"I have a first name, by the way. It's Rafael."

Flack laughed again, a stronger, happier laugh. "I'm Don, but I think ya know that already, right?"

"Who the heck doesn't know yer old man? He's a le-"

"A _legend_, yeah, I know," Flack cut in.

It took a second for D'Anda to reply. "No talk 'bout daddy, eh?"

Flack smirked. "No, he's not one a' my favorite topics of conversation, if ya know what I mean."

"Well, Don, consider Flack, Sr. out of discussion."

"Thanks, D- thanks, Rafe."

"Now that I've gotten all that out, there's somethin' else ya might wanna know."

"What's that?" Flack glanced around him. He had been so deep into D'Anda's story, he was now somewhere in the frozen food section of the supermarket.

"Got tipped that some mental patient escaped this afternoon."

"Ya do realize this is NYC, right?" Flack said. "I probably passed 'bout fifty crazy people from my apartment to the supermarket, ya know."

That got D'Anda guffawing loudly.

"Look, I'm _serious_. One of Lockhaven Hospital's high-security patients got out onto the streets. There's a manhunt goin' on now, so if ya got friends or family in the upper west side of Queens, ya oughta let them know 'bout crazy guy runnin' 'round."

"Yeah, okay. Thanks."

Suddenly, Flack heard someone calling for D'Anda in the background through his phone. It was a woman.

"Well, I gotta cut our chat short. The wife's callin' me for dinner."

"Sure thing."

"Just remember what I said, 'kay? Call me up any time ya wanna talk."

Flack swallowed, coughed faintly. "Thanks. I will."

D'Anda made a muted sound of accord, then ended the call.

Flack was feeling somewhat disoriented while he replaced his mobile phone back into his trouser pocket. Wow. That conversation was the last thing he ever anticipated to participate in today, much less it being with a guy like D'Anda. A smile gradually grew across his face. D'Anda had been right. You'll never really know what you'll get in life.

He headed back for the confectionary aisle, his mind settled and tranquil. Okay, he was going to buy the chocolate anyway. Then, if Danny still didn't pick up his calls, he would just head over to the CSI's place and wait.

Flack halted in his steps.

_Danny_.

The homicide detective frowned.

Upper west side of Queens.

Danny's apartment was there.

A chunk of ice started to form in his chest.

His phone was back on his ear.

And as usual, he was transferred over to Danny's voice mail.

"Danny? This is Don. _Don't erase this message, okay? _This is _important_ … look, I got tipped off that there's a mental patient fugitive who's out on the streets in the upper west side of Queens. There's a search going on right now, so don't go out unless ya really have to, 'kay?"

Flack inhaled deeply.

"Just … just _call _me, okay? Or just _message_ me or somethin', if ya don't wanna talk to me." He sighed. "I just wanna know you're okay."

He thought about adding more, but decided not to. Those words, he had to say them in person to Danny. He cut off the call, finishing his message there.

"Please … call me, babe," Flack whispered inaudibly to himself.

The chunk of ice in his heart had become an iceberg, and it continued to grow with each passing minute.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

"Is everything okay, sweetie?"

It took Danny a minute or two to figure out the elderly cashier lady was speaking to him.

"Yeah … yeah, I'm okay." He attempted to smile.

"Are you sure? You don't look very well, dear."

The CSI had made up his mind to restock his fridge, if only to get out of his apartment to escape from the painful memories that lurked in every corner of the place. It turned out it was equally difficult for him to go around the local grocery store nearby. He and Flack often came here together to shop for groceries, particularly when Flack stayed the night.

The cashier lady, whose name he still didn't know after all the years he'd shopped here, leaned forward to try to make eye contact with him. He unconsciously pushed his heavily tinted glasses up his prominent nose. They were very dark orange, and the tint hid the puffy, red rings around his eyes perfectly.

"I'm okay, really." Danny couldn't find the energy to talk above a weak murmur. He never realized how taxing crying for hours could be on his eyes and throat.

The elderly woman scrutinized him with warm, concerned eyes, and said in a soothing tone, "Alright, dear."

She resumed scanning his grocery items, intermittently punching keys on the electronic cashier machine. Danny would have fully reclaimed his composure, if it wasn't for her next question.

"Where's your tall friend? He's always with you."

Danny had to grind his teeth together hard to keep from screaming. The last four words felt as sharp as swords piercing his chest.

" … He's … away. On vacation."

"Aww. Well, a holiday is always nice." The cashier lady tittered affably. "I hope he comes back soon."

Danny couldn't trust himself to reply to that. Not without breaking. Again.

There was a sudden, buzzing noise coming from his jacket pocket that denoted a certain homicide detective had left him a voice mail. He ignored it, and two seconds later, the buzzing sound stopped playing. Danny knew Flack was being automatically shifted to voice mail with every call, since he programmed his phone to do so.

The CSI sighed. Hunched his shoulders under his sports jacket and tugged at its collar. This was about the fifteenth time Flack had called his mobile phone that day. He couldn't bear to answer it. It was already agonizing listening to Flack saying farewell forever again and again in his head. He'd go totally fucking crazy should he hear it for real.

"That'll be eighteen dollars and fifty-five cents, please."

Danny took out his wallet. Counted out the appropriate amount of money to pay for his items. He paid no heed to the voice in his mind asking him why he hadn't just already blocked Flack completely.

It hurt him too much to face the truth of the answer to that question right now.

"Thank you very much! Please do come again."

Danny wound his fingers through the handles of the plastic bags. Then, he felt a delicate hand pat his.

"I hope whatever's troubling you will be resolved soon." The cashier woman smiled kindly at him. It was one of those smiles that made the fragile walls around his heart crumble little by little. One of those that made him feel better and worse at the same time.

"T-thanks."

Danny grabbed his groceries and strode out of the grocery store with flustered steps, running straight into another customer at the main entrance. He could sense the stares of the other people in the store directed at him, especially that of the man he'd bumped into.

He ran out without a word, rushing over two blocks down the road, and then slowed to a standstill, next to a small gift shop. He had to place his grocery bags on the pavement, bowing forward with his hands on knees to catch his breath. God, he had to get out of there before he snapped and made a fool of himself in front of everyone.

The skies above were black, the darkness tinged a very mild orange and yellow by the city illumination. But higher up, if Danny squinted hard enough, he could make out clusters of stars dusting the heavens, like tiny diamonds laid out on black velvet.

He wasn't thinking about how he and Flack had gone up to the top of his apartment building and spent an evening pointing out the various constellations, lying on one of his thick blankets, their heads touching.

He wasn't thinking about his own glow-in-the-dark constellations that Flack had stuck onto his ceiling for his birthday last year, painstakingly piece by piece while he'd been away at a forensics conference in Chicago.

He wasn't thinking about Flack's lean body, warm against his beneath the blankets on his bed, as they gazed up at Flack's gift to him, the stars that would always watch over them, in the day or night.

No, he wasn't thinking about Flack at all.

Danny sucked in a shuddering breath. Blinked a few times, and sniffed once.

He couldn't see the stars anymore.

Eons later, he bent down to pick up the filled plastic bags on the ground, slowly like an old man. He felt so tired. Maybe he'd just skip dinner and go straight to bed. He didn't feel the ache in his chest as much when he was asleep and dead to the world.

"Hnnn."

Danny straightened up fast at the unexpected grunt that came from above him.

There was a man, a hulking, gargantuan man who stood so close in front of him, Danny had to take a couple of steps backwards to examine the stranger. The guy was extremely tall _and_ enormous, at least seven and a half feet tall, all brawny muscles and blocky features. He was so tall, his upper body from the sternum up was slumped forward, making him appear like he was somewhat hunchbacked. He was bald or shaved his head. And he seemed to be attired in some sort of … hospital garb.

"_Hnnn_." The stranger stared at Danny with weirdly child-like, hazel eyes, huge and innocent like a little deer's.

Except this was no little cute animal standing in front of Danny.

"Look, I … I don't want any trouble, okay?" Danny took another tentative step back, keeping his blue eyes trained on the giant man. "I don't have any money on me anymore, if that's what ya want … just a few dollars."

His gut instinct was shouting at him to run like hell.

Danny dropped his groceries.

He swiveled around and began to run.

Not even two steps forward, a massive hand wrapped itself around his right bicep, yanking him backwards as if he was light as a feather.

The CSI cried out, grimacing at the intense pressure around his arm. He instantly struggled against the stranger turned attacker, kicking powerfully with his legs and landing a solid punch here and there on the guy's bulky body when he could.

They didn't affect the man one bit. Beating on him was similar to pounding on hard rock.

"Teddy."

The man crushed Danny against his chest, effectively imprisoning Danny's arms at his sides with a single arm. When the guy's forearm shifted up over his neck and shoulders, Danny knew he was in deep trouble. The force of the man's grip was so great, Danny started to suffocate.

His vision tunneled. His mouth opened to drag in choked breaths. Pummeled his fists in futility against his assailant's arm and chest.

"Found you, teddy."

He was being hauled into a dark alley, lifted off his wobbly feet, getting too weak to fight back. His eyelids fluttered.

"It's okay now, teddy."

Through slitted eyes, Danny saw one large hand floating before his face. He saw a plastic band around the wrist, a red-colored one that had the name Lockhaven printed in bold letters on it … and a name …

"The bad men are gone, teddy. Safe now."

The hand closed over his face.

And Danny no longer felt anything.


	10. Part 10

**One Week**

Fandom: CSI:NY

Author: Kimmychu

Rating: FRAO (we're talkin' Karma Sutra-rating here)

Pairing: Danny/Flack

Content Warning: Major sexual tension, Flack-snark overload, dirty thoughts. Lotsa dirty thoughts.

Spoilers: Meh, nothing important, but to be safe, post Season 2.

Summary: Danny and Flack love to dance the horizontal tango. Everyday. Three times a day. And night. But one day, Flack says yes, and Danny says no. What will Flack the sex maniac do when his lover gives him the ultimatum of no sex … for one whole week?

Disclaimer: YES, THEY BELONG TO ME - I mean, why, of course not, they're just fictional … hot … characters. Mmm, hot.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Author's Notes: Yes, ladies and gentlemen. This story will end in _two_ more installments. You know what that means, right? - evil grin - Enjoy! And thanks for the reviews. I appreciate them!

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

**xi. Mallaka**

Flack's foot tapped fitfully on the floor.

Of all the lines he had to pick, he had to pick the one where the cash register went kaput for reasons beyond the comprehension of its cashier, a skinny teenager with messy neon orange hair and freckles.

"Uh … okay, t-that's not supposed to happen …"

The cashier poked at a few buttons, mumbled to himself some more, then jumped when the machine emitted a piercing and really annoying, beeping sound. It kept going and going, prompting Flack to grimace to the point he was squinting.

Somewhere down the line of customers behind the homicide detective, a baby began to wail like a starving banshee.

Flack groaned audibly. He glowered at the plastic sign hanging high above the cash register. The express line? Yeah. _Right_.

"Whoops, _uhm_ … oh _shit_, what did I press …" The teenager, attired in the same white, green and red outfit like his co-worker, Barbara, virtually banged his fists on the register in the hopes of stopping the noise. "Uh, no, that's not working …"

"Look, how 'bout I just give ya the money for this chocolate, and I'll go my merry way?" Flack gave the cashier a tight-lipped smile.

"Uhm, I, _well_," The cashier scratched at his neon orange hair, not daring to look Flack in the eye. "Store policy says I gotta give you a receipt for all purchases, so … uh -"

Flack slapped a hand over his eyes, and dragged it down his face.

"Okay, how 'bout I just pay ya _now_, and you can _mail_ me the receipt _later?_"

"_Uh_, well, _uhm_, I dunno, I gotta check with my manager … or something …"

Flack released a frustrated growl.

"Ah, _uhm_, _yeah_, I'm gonna go, _uh_, look for him now." The skinny cashier scrambled out from behind his checkout counter, gangly and clumsy limbs flailing about. "_Sorry! _I'll be _right _back!"

Two short, elderly men behind Flack started to crossly jabber to each other in some guttural, fast-paced language.

The baby was now howling loud enough to make glass crack.

Flack resumed tapping his foot on the floor.

Out of the blue, his mobile phone rang.

The lanky homicide detective's breath hitched.

There was only one person on his phone whose number was assigned a unique ringtone.

His annoyance immediately forgotten, he hastily dug into his jacket pocket and plucked out the vibrating device. Danny! Danny was calling him! His face was split into a humongous grin as he answered the call.

"_Dan! _Thank God ya called! Ya worried the _hell _outta me!"

He waited for a reply.

Nothing, apart from an odd, gritty sound. Like shoes scraping against gravel.

"Danny?"

"H-_hey_, I'm not a _teddy_ … I'm a human being."

Flack frowned slightly. What the _heck?_

He heard Danny grunt. The CSI sounded as if his phone was held pretty far away from his head.

"Okay, how - how 'bout we go to that grocery store two blocks down? The - the _La Ruisa supermarket? _Ya like lookin' at colorful stuff? I-it's got lotsa that."

Flack's long fingers clenched hard on his cel phone. La Ruisa supermarket? He knew where that was. It was the grocery store he and Danny usually shopped at whenever he stayed over at Danny's apartment. And who the hell was Danny talking to?

"Or -" Danny grunted once more. More gravelly noises, the sounds of shoes kicking against the ground. "Okay, _okay_, we can - we can go to the - the _gift shop _just 'round the corner, ah? It's got lotsa pretty stuff too, huh?"

Danny's voice seemed choked and strained.

"Danny … who are ya _talkin'_ to?" Flack rasped.

For a second, the homicide detective merely heard silence from the other side of the connection.

"Teddy. Found you, teddy."

Flack gasped. His large, blue eyes widened in horror.

That wasn't Danny. That was somebody else … a man -

"Please, I'm not yer teddy … lemme go, okay? Lemme _go_, and we'll go look for yer real teddy, okay?"

Suddenly, Danny was coughing and making strangled noises.

Flack ground his teeth together. He was breathing faster and faster, and he couldn't slow it down -

"_Please_ … _lemme go_." The CSI sucked in a harsh breath. "Your - your _hospital_ buddies must - they must _miss_ ya -"

Oh God, _no_. No, it _couldn't _be -

"The bad men are gone. Safe now, teddy."

The homicide detective found himself sprinting for the exit of the supermarket, phone attached to his ear. Somebody was yelling at him, something about having left his chocolate behind, but he ignored it. He dashed into the open, narrowly avoiding a headlong crash into a couple of pedestrians on the sidewalk. Somebody else was shouting now, but he ignored that too.

All he could hear was Danny's asphyxiated breaths, low and scratchy and tremulous with fear.

"Danny, if ya can hear me, _talk to me_." Flack had his car keys out. "_Danny, talk to me!_" He unlocked and flung open the car door and jumped in.

"Never lose you again, teddy."

Flack swore under his breath. He twisted and twisted the key in the ignition, and after the third time, slammed his hand violently on the steering wheel. The damn car wouldn't start. His fucking car just _had_ to up and go dead on him tonight of _all_ nights. He hollered another expletive, audible enough that a pedestrian ambling by backed away from his car.

"Don … _help me_."

Something in Flack's chest shattered at the desperate plea in Danny's voice.

Flack saw only blood red.

He aggressively turned the key in the ignition once more.

On the next try, the car revved to life.

He jostled the gear, stomped on the accelerator.

"Hold on, babe," Flack whispered croakily. "I'm comin'."

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Herman. His name was Herman.

Danny tried his best to peer at the identification band around Herman's wrist, to see if it yielded more information aside from his kidnapper's name and the hospital from where he escaped. It was somewhat difficult to move his head. Herman's gigantic forearm over his neck and shoulder ensured he could merely stare forward, unless he shifted his eyes from side to side.

"Herman? Is that yer name?"

Herman didn't say anything in return. The fugitive continued to stroke Danny's hair, as if Danny was a big teddy bear.

"My name's Danny … can ya understand me, Herman?"

No answer.

Danny's eyelids flickered. The petting was surprisingly very gentle and child-like, coming from such a huge person like his captor. He could almost appreciate the innocent physical contact, if he wasn't so anxious about whether Herman would go a hundred-and-eighty on him and suddenly snap his neck or something.

"Bad men are gone, teddy. Safe now."

The CSI stayed relaxed and limp. It seemed Herman only constricted his grip on Danny whenever he struggled and attempted to break out of the guy's clutches. Otherwise, Herman was literally cuddling him, patting his hair and enfolding enormous, muscular arms around him in a protective manner.

"Herman, who're the bad men?"

The giant, bald man was quiet. Danny sensed Herman pivoting his head from side to side, like he was checking out their surroundings.

"Bad men are gone. Never lose you again, teddy."

The CSI sighed softly. Well, he wasn't going to get anything out of the hospital escapee anytime soon.

The first thing he remembered upon regaining consciousness was running. Running from the La Ruisa grocery store. Then skidding to a halt in front of that gift shop with all the porcelain statues that Flack always thought were girly. Then … his kidnapper-to-be showed up.

Danny blinked. He didn't recall much after that. Herman must have unintentionally throttled him until he blacked out. And now here they were, in the back of a narrow, dark alley, hiding behind a high stack of wooden crates, obscured from view. Herman sat on one of the crates, with his burly arms around Danny on his lap. The chances of anyone glancing into the alley and seeing them was extremely slim, it being night as well.

The CSI gripped his mobile phone securely in his right hand. His glasses had gone missing. They must have fallen off somewhere when Herman captured him. Without them, everything appeared to be blobs to him. He hoped to God that he'd dialled Flack's number correctly, and that the homicide detective had picked up and heard everything.

The thought of Flack coming to his rescue made his throat clog up. What he wouldn't give to see the beautiful face of the man he loved again. Even if it was going to hurt him so bad, knowing that it would probably be the last time regardless of how this scenario played out.

"Teddy."

Herman ruffled the detective's spiky hair, then squeezed his arm around Danny's torso in a robust hug. Danny mumbled a silent prayer in thanks that Herman had moved his arm lower, down around Danny's chest. The hug was forceful enough to force all the breath out of him, and his arms were still trapped at his sides.

Danny blinked once more. He was sure now that the rough way Herman had been treating him before was unintentional. Innocent. The bald man was like a small, frightened child who was consoling his teddy bear about something terrible that happened. Spoke like a child, even. Except, this small child was living inside the body of a gargantuan, fully grown man who was as powerful as five average men put together. It was very probable Herman didn't know his own strength in any way.

If the guy really believed Danny was a teddy bear, the CSI couldn't blame Herman for hugging him so hard or accidentally strangulating him. After all, teddy bears didn't need to breathe, did they?

"Teddy, why is mommy so red?"

Danny cautiously tilted his head upwards and to the side so he could see Herman's face. The hospital escapee was staring off into the distance, his hazel eyes wide with trepidation and loss. He had begun rocking them both back and forth, the usual action of a little child seeking comfort.

"Mommy's so red. Why is mommy so quiet?"

Herman not only had no idea how strong he was, he had no clue of what was going on around him too. The giant man didn't even know he was cowering in a dim, dirty alley, inadvertently holding a detective hostage.

"Is mommy sleeping?"

The blue-eyed detective pursed his lips. He had to try and reach out to Herman. It might be his sole hope in getting out of this situation without anyone being hurt.

"I don't know, Herman. Maybe if you tell me what happened, it might help," Danny said in a comforting tone. "Tell me what happened."

Herman kept rocking them, glancing here and there, seeing things only he could see.

"It's okay, Herman. I'm not one of the bad men." Danny smiled, eventhough he knew his captor wouldn't see it. "The bad men are _gone_, remember?"

Herman became motionless.

Danny tensed up, prepared for the worst.

"Bad men came to the house." The bald fugitive held Danny to his chest in a crushing embrace. "Bad men. In black."

Danny had to suck in a deep breath before rasping, "Okay, _okay_, that's good ... What happened then?"

"Daddy wasn't home. Mommy was scared. Mommy told them they could take anything. Just don't hurt us."

The CSI had the feeling he knew what was coming next in Herman's child-like narration.

"What happened after that?" When the big man didn't say anything, Danny asked, "Herman, what happened after that?"

"Loud noises. Bad men laughing."

The hospital escapee was stroking his hair again, albeit in a more frantic way.

"Teddy, why is mommy red? Mommy, wake up."

Danny swallowed visibly. This time, he found it difficult to breathe for a different reason.

Without warning, Herman jerked intensely, the unexpected movement jolting Danny's senses into a heightened state. Danny blinked numerous times, then gasped.

_Sirens_. He could hear sirens approaching.

The CSI couldn't help huffing out a grateful, wavering chuckle.

Flack! He _did_ dial Flack's number. He was going to be alright.

The arms constricting around his chest rapidly reminded him of his kidnapper.

Danny twisted his head to look at Herman's face once more. The fear on the gigantic man's blocky face was unmistakable. Herman's lower lip was trembling.

"Herman, it's gonna be okay."

Danny glanced down at his cel phone in hand. He had to warn Flack that Herman was actually harmless and that -

Oh, no. The detective pressed some numbers on his phone, but nothing popped up on the LCD screen. The battery was dead.

Herman whined, a high-pitched, sad sound that compelled Danny to awkwardly pat the man on one forearm.

"It's gonna be okay, Herman. I won't let anybody hurt ya."

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Flack warily stepped into the alley, his jacket unbuttoned and his hands empty.

"Danny? Can ya hear me, buddy?"

He slowly walked towards what appeared to be a tall stack of wooden crates heaped up in the back of the alley. The illumination coming from a patrol car's front lights didn't show much of what was behind them, but Flack was certain Danny was there with the Lockhaven hospital escapee.

He'd driven like a madman all the way to the La Ruisa supermarket near Danny' apartment, outright panicking after the call suddenly disconnected and he no longer had a link to his other half. He might have reached the place even faster, except he got pulled over by a fellow police officer who demanded to know what the living daylights he'd been drinking to drive like that. All it'd taken for that cop to call up every other cop in Queens was to find out some nutball mental patient had taken one of their own as a hostage.

It was a damn good thing he was so familiar with Danny's neighborhood. He spent no time at all locating the exact alley where Danny and the fugitive were holed up, right next to that gift shop with all those sissy porcelain things.

Heh. This mental patient picked the _wrong_ guy to fuck with.

_Nobody_ kidnapped Don Flack, Jr.'s significant other and got away with it.

And the nutcase sure as hell wasn't going to do that, not with dozens of police officers surrounding the area and backing Flack up.

"Danny?"

Flack slinked around the wooden crates.

It was dark, dark enough that he could hardly tell what was what in the shadows of the alley. He squinted. And then he saw them.

"Don?"

The CSI was imprisoned in the burly arms of an _enormous_, bald man, held to the man's chest with arms trapped at the sides. That was as much as he could see in the dimness. That, and the luminous gleam in Danny's blue eyes.

Danny was snared, but he was _alive_.

"_Danny_."

The homicide detective wasn't ashamed of the moistness that sprung to his blue eyes.

There was a sudden, ear-splitting roar, and the fugitive leapt to his feet and charged at Flack.

"_Whoa!_"

The lanky detective leapt agilely out of the way, running backwards to the front of the alley. He didn't dare risk taking down the perp. Danny was still in the guy's clutches, lugged around like a life-sized doll. It amazed Flack how the mental patient managed to move so fast with the full weight of an adult man like Danny in his grip.

Flack kept walking backwards, backing out into the open, hoping the guy would follow him out. Sure enough, in his rage, the escapee lunged after Flack, lumbering onto the sidewalk.

"DON'T TAKE TEDDY _AWAY!_"

The fugitive's second bellow incited a coordinated response from the other police officers positioned in front of the alley beside their patrol cars. Together, they yanked out their guns and pointed them at the giant man.

Flack stood before him, stunned at the sight of the tears rolling down the man's face.

The guy was … _crying_.

"_Teddy_ _mine! Don't take teddy away!_"

It stunned Flack even more to hear Danny _consoling_ his kidnapper.

"Herman, _Herman_, it's okay … it's _okay_, they're _good_ men, not bad ones."

The CSI's feet weren't even touching the pavement, which showed Flack just how tall the mental patient was. One arm went around Danny's midriff, holding him up in the air against the man's chest. The other was wrapped around Danny's neck and shoulders.

And it was tightening more and more as the fugitive, who was apparently called Herman, looked around him and seemed to realize he was in some sort of danger or trouble.

"Don -" Danny was slowly being strangled in the man's crushing grip. "He's harmless, he's just _scared_ …" The CSI's hands futilely wrenched at the arm over his neck. "_Tell them to back off_."

Some of the cops heard Danny's words and reluctantly lowered their weapons. Flack had to order the rest to lay down their guns and stand down.

Herman was retreating into the alley again, a really bad thing that Flack had to stop fast.

"_Herman!_"

For some reason, Flack calling his name seemed to get to the hospital escapee.

"Yeah, Herman, that's yer _name_, right?" Flack said with a mollifying tone. He gestured behind at the other police officers, who had all lowered their weapons and were uneasily awaiting their perp's next move. "_See? _No guns, okay? Nobody's gonna do anythin' stupid here."

Herman stood at the entrance of the alley, staring at the homicide detective with large, doubtful eyes. There were still tears streaming down from them. At least, his arm was no longer suffocating the CSI in his embrace.

"Don … listen," Danny said gruffly. There were bruises forming on his neck. "He's just a _kid_ livin' in an adult body … he doesn't know what he's doin'. He's _harmless_."

Flack gazed at Danny, feeling wet warmth behind his eyes. This was definitely not the way he'd hoped to see Danny again, but it was still miles better than being separated from the man forever. And look at the guy. Even in an insane situation like this, the CSI was more worried about the very person who had kidnapped him than himself.

Flack was never going to stop loving Danny.

"He - he thinks I'm his teddy bear." Danny chuckled faintly, deliberately limp in Herman's bear hug. Herman was standing rather still. Only his head moved, his gaze shifting from one direction to another, seeing something and nothing at the same time.

"What?"

"Yeah ... He thinks I'm his teddy bear. S'why he's holdin' me like this."

The homicide detective blinked twice. _Teddy bear_, eh?

"Herman." Flack uttered the man's name a second time to get the mental patient's attention. "I think we got a misunderstandin' here."

Flack had no clue whatsoever if the fugitive comprehended what he was saying. Nevertheless, he had to try. Sure, Danny said the guy was harmless. Didn't guarantee he wouldn't go all psycho on everybody at the last minute. Danny's life was still at stake.

"I - I used to have a teddy bear too." Flack slowly stepped closer to Herman, holding up his hands to show he wasn't armed. "He's an _amazin' _teddy bear … in fact, he looks a lot like the teddy bear you've got right now."

The tall detective then gazed deeply into Danny's wide eyes, and resumed talking.

"I loved my teddy bear a lot, Herman. He was really, really special to me. One of a kind. One in a trillion. Ya know what I mean, don'tcha, Herman? You're so upset right now 'cos ya lost yer teddy bear, and ya don't know where he's gone. It feels like you've lost somethin' really important to ya, somethin' that ya just can't live without."

Flack smiled, a smile that was overflowing with both love and melancholy.

"I know how that feels too. 'Cause, I lost my teddy bear too. Ya see, I took him for granted. I thought that no matter what I did, my teddy bear would always be 'round. But I made a stupid mistake … I did somethin' 'cause I wanted to protect my teddy, 'cause somebody wanted to take me away from my teddy."

Flack heard Danny's breath snag.

Herman made an unhappy sound, but no outward movements.

"Yeah, ya know how _that_ feels too, don'tcha?" Flack said. "Maybe that's why you're so angry at people getting' near yer teddy bear. But ya see, the misunderstandin' here is …"

Flack pointed at Danny with his hand.

"That's _my_ teddy bear you've got there, Herman. _Your_ teddy bear is with one of them good men behind me. Ya dropped it somewhere, but we've got it, and you can have it back. That's what ya want, right?"

The giant man stared at Flack, looking unsure of himself now.

"Teddy?"

"Yeah, _yeah_, teddy's in the car behind me." Flack opened his arms. "Okay, Herman, tell ya what … you let go of _my_ teddy, and you'll have yer _real_ teddy back. How 'bout that?"

Herman made a low grunt. "Teddy."

Flack looked into Danny's moist eyes, so close, and yet so far out of his reach.

"_Please_, Herman. I miss my teddy. _I really want him back_."

A tense silence reigned.

Flack simply heard the blood rushing through his ears. Saw the understanding in Danny's baby blues, saw the love that he'd missed for an eternity in the last forty-eight hours or so.

Behind the homicide detective, somebody coughed.

Another person took a deep, shuddering breath.

Ten seconds ticked by.

Then, against all the odds, Herman's arms lowered, freeing Danny.

The CSI landed with a thump on the sidewalk. For a second, Danny was so surprised at being abruptly released, he merely stood there on wobbly feet.

"_Danny!_"

Flack grabbed Danny by the forearms and hurriedly pulled him away to safety among the other cops.

Herman stood alone in front of the alley, a blank expression on his squarish face.

" … teddy?"

All hell broke loose.

In a split second, the fugitive was tackled to the ground by half a dozen police officers, flattened face first with his arms wrenched behind his back. The six men grappled the gigantic man with all their strength, two of them needing to sit on Herman's back and legs and the other four clinging onto those thrashing, muscular arms for dear life.

Flack could tell Herman's anguished howls were upsetting Danny. He had to restrain the CSI from jumping into the melee with an arm around Danny's shoulders and one hand around his wrist.

"Stop it! You're _hurtin'_ him!"

The mental patient yowled even more stridently as soon as he heard Danny's voice.

"_Teeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeedddddddddyyyy!_"

Herman was crying again.

The homicide detective swiftly realized there was a seventh person in the scuffle, somebody in the long, white coat of a doctor. It was a woman with short blonde hair, kneeling beside Herman's head, injecting something into the overwhelmed escapee's neck with a syringe. After a minute or two, Herman's cries died down. The gargantuan man slowly but surely became still, going utterly limp. The cops holding the motionless man down waited for a few seconds till they were sure Herman was totally unconscious, and then released him.

Flack left his arm around Danny's shoulders, unwilling to let the other man go. Danny appeared wan and distraught, his lips a thin line of anger, his neck red with forming discolorations across it. There were red rings around those blue eyes that brought a pang to Flack's heart. He knew what had caused them. Some of the police men who came to the scene with Flack approached Danny to ask if he was alright and needed medical attention. They got the point quick with Danny's wordless shaking of his head.

"He's gonna be okay, Danny," Flack said gently. Even as he said so, the blonde doctor who'd tranquilized Herman was petting the oblivious man on his bald head, while two sturdy-looking men in white uniforms labored to heave the huge man onto a wheeled stretcher. The homicide detective noted their van parked nearby, a white vehicle which had Lockhaven Hospital printed on its side in medium-sized but very bold letters. Geez, right on time.

"He didn't mean it. He was just lookin' for his teddy bear," Danny muttered.

"You mean … like _this?_"

Out of nowhere, Flack's fellow homicide detective stood before them, holding up a very battered and soiled teddy bear.

"D'An- _Rafe?_"

D'Anda, dressed in a grey sweater, black trousers and a macintosh, cackled in amusement at Flack's dazed expression.

"Yeah, well, I _had_ to come down and get a piece a' the action, seein' as _I_ was the one who told ya 'bout _Mr. Mental _there," D'Anda said, aiming a thumb at Herman being loaded into the Lockhaven hospital transport van. "Looks like I was too late."

"Where the _heck_ did ya get that teddy bear?" Flack asked. He gawked at the soft toy hanging from D'Anda's hand.

If it wasn't mucky with dust and grime and who knew what else, it was quite a cute bear. It was a furry, brown one, with a pair of glasses fixed to the ears and snout. It had blue button eyes, and was wearing a red, short-sleeved shirt and blue trousers. To top it off, the hair between the rounded ears were all spiky and in tufts.

Wow. It looked just like _Danny_.

"I came rushin' down here after I got a call from Moore 'bout the showdown, and a couple a' blocks from here, I saw _this_ lyin' on the side of the road." D'Anda shook it. The teddy bear's head remained attached to the body only thanks to a few measly threads. "Sad little fellow, ain't he?"

Danny took the bear from D'Anda. He examined it, turning it around and upside down as he did so. The bear was old, very old. It was one of those teddy bears that hadn't been manufactured in _decades_.

"This must be Herman's teddy bear," Danny murmured, mostly to himself.

Flack watched the CSI handling the toy with a tender smile. He felt like he was on Cloud Gazillion. Danny was _alive_. His other half was alive and well. A little bruised, but they could deal with that with some sweet loving -

Flack's smile became stilted. Oh, shit. Was Danny still _mad_ at him after all this?

Right on cue, Danny raised his head to gaze at Flack in the eyes.

What Flack saw in those big, blue eyes made him sigh inwardly in intense relief. He hoped to God his Danny-reader hadn't gone bust on him and misinterpreted the emotion in Danny's eyes as anything other than pure joy and thankfulness. Flack sent the other man a brilliant smile, aching so badly to embrace the CSI right then and there.

D'Anda's cough was what broke the spell.

"_So_, I guess you two boys are gonna be okay then?" D'Anda angled at his head at Danny. "Mr. Teddy here doesn't need to go to the hospital?"

"_No_, no, I'm fine. Just a little bruised, but it's nothin'," Danny speedily replied. Then he glanced back at Flack, smiling softly. "I think I wanna go home instead."

The fact that Danny specifically looked at him when he said that made something in the left side of Flack's chest glow like the sun.

"Okay," Flack said in a low voice. "Did ya drive?"

"No, I was buyin' stuff at the grocery store." Danny suddenly grimaced. "Oh, _maaan_. My groceries are probably all _stolen_ by now. And I dunno where my glasses are." He pouted.

Flack guffawed. "Don't worry 'bout that. Let's just go home, 'kay?"

"Okay."

After saying goodbye to a D'Anda who was giving him knowing smirks, Flack lead Danny to his car, parked just four cars away from the alley where the CSI had his kidnapping experience. Flack couldn't stop staring at Danny. The man was so damn gorgeous, tousled hair, rumpled clothes, bloodshot eyes and all.

Flack was struck by an abrupt bout of reservation.

"Danny, I … I can just let ya off at yer apartment buildin'. I mean, ya got a right ta be mad at me -"

"Don."

The CSI wrapped a hand tight around his.

"I wanna go home, Don. Home with _you_."

Throughout the short drive back to Danny's apartment, the two detectives' hands remained intertwined together, just like their hearts.


	11. Part 11

**One Week**

Fandom: CSI:NY

Author: Kimmychu

Rating: FRAO (we're talkin' Karma Sutra-rating here)

Pairing: Danny/Flack

Content Warning: Major sexual tension, Flack-snark overload, dirty thoughts. Lotsa dirty thoughts.

Spoilers: Meh, nothing important, but to be safe, post Season 2.

Summary: Danny and Flack love to dance the horizontal tango. Everyday. Three times a day. And night. But one day, Flack says yes, and Danny says no. What will Flack the sex maniac do when his lover gives him the ultimatum of no sex … for one whole week?

Disclaimer: YES, THEY BELONG TO ME - I mean, why, of course not, they're just fictional … hot … characters. Mmm, hot.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Author's Notes: Well. What can I say? This is the chapter you horndogs have been waiting for! Do I even have to mention that this is not safe for work? _Hah_. Sorry for the long wait, been busy with life and all that … and I'm highly doubtful I'll make the **NaNoWrimo** dateline, but what the hey. Thank you all for your kind reviews! I appreciate them! And enjoy the story.

Oh. By the way. Once you've finished this chapter, I'm sure there's a question you'd be asking yourself. And yes. It _is_ very possible for a man to come more than once in a row. _Mwahah! _Don't ask how I know.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

**xii. Lataveshta**

Danny couldn't stop staring at Flack. He allowed his gaze to roam across those beloved features, those thick, dark eyebrows, the strong aquiline nose, those pink firm lips. Most of all, those large blue eyes that could read his soul with a single glance.

His tongue flitted out. He raised a hand to push his spectacles up his nose, then realized that he'd lost it earlier that night. It was a good thing he had a spare pair just in case.

"Now where did I keep it …" The homicide detective was rummaging in his jacket pockets for the key to Danny's apartment with one hand. The other hand was tightly gripping one of Danny's.

They hadn't let go of each other since the quick drive to his apartment building.

Danny squeezed Flack's hand hard. The additional pressure prompted Flack to temporarily halt his search and look up. The CSI sent him a little smile.

"You okay?" Flack asked in a low, smooth tenor. He had a small albeit affectionate smile on his face too.

Danny simply nodded. His neck was beginning to feel sore. However, he didn't say a word about it to Flack. The ache was made minimal by the intense happiness that suffused his entire being. It was like he was having an out-of-body experience. There he was, holding Flack's hand, standing in front of his apartment front door with the man, but it was also as if … Flack was already _inside_ him.

The thought caused him to grip to constrict even more.

Flack didn't react. Merely stood there, staring deep into his eyes, gently stroking his fingers with his own.

Danny swallowed visibly. It was incredible. They were doing nothing except stand in front of each other, grasping each other's hands, gazing at one another.

And yet, Danny had never felt so connected to the other man before.

He blinked.

Flack's smile broadened.

Danny felt a thumb stroke his lower jaw and cheek.

He never understood why Flack loved staring at him so much. He always considered himself to be rather ordinary looking, particularly compared to the homicide detective. It didn't matter how many times he caught Flack staring ardently at him. Every time felt like the very first time. An earth-shattering sensation that took his breath away.

He took a step closer to his friend, his eyes wide and glistening. Drank in every tiny facet of Flack's mien, every blemish, every crinkle, every line. Kept the visual treasure in a safe place within his mind, a place where he could draw on it to remember what love truly looked like when the days were dark and cold and lonely.

Danny never understood why Flack loved staring at him so much.

Until now.

The homicide detective's hand had remained on the side of his face. In any other circumstance, Danny would have been quietly hissing about the blatant display of physical affection in public and told Flack off for it. It was funny how things could change in the blink of an eye. Or how looking death in the eye had its way of changing one's perspective on life in an instant.

He leaned into the touch, maintaining eye contact, fervently hoping that Flack was able to see his emotions in his eyes.

It was Flack's turn to swallow visibly now. The man blinked twice, his smile trembling just a little. Danny wasn't sure if it was the lights on the hallway's ceiling above them that was causing Flack's eyes to gleam that much.

"Okay," Flack rasped, almost to himself.

Flack's thumb traveled from Danny's cheek onto his lower lip, rubbing it from one end to the other.

Danny smiled tenderly at the other man again, and Flack returned it with a soft, close-lipped smile.

Flack's hand fell from the CSI's face.

The taller detective returned to searching for his key to Danny's apartment. He still hadn't let go of Danny's hand.

Danny glanced down at their entwined hands, then back up at Flack's visage. Even without his glasses, Flack's eyes were clearer to him than the sun itself. Did he ever tell the man how beautiful they were?

"_Here_ it is." Flack had gotten the key out and was jostling it into the keyhole. He mumbled something unintelligible under his breath.

Danny let Flack lead him into his apartment, then turned to close the door and lock it. The lights were on as they were before he went out to buy his groceries. Thinking about his grocery shopping made his eyes close, and he groaned in mild annoyance. Oh, _great_, there was no food at all in his fridge, which meant they probably had to order -

"Danny."

The CSI's eyes snapped open at the strain in Flack's voice. He pivoted around to see Flack standing in the living area, frozen and staring at something on the floor.

Danny's breath snagged. Oh, _no_.

He hesitantly shuffled over to stand next to Flack. Yep, the shattered pieces of what used to be a glass vase was still there, along with the drying splatter of water on the wall, as well as the wet rivulets trailing downwards from it. The King Protea flowers Flack had gifted him a few months ago were scattered all over the floor, some with their large, artichoke-like heads split from their stems. Flack had specifically chosen them because they represented courage, that it was his way of acknowledging Danny's bravery in dealing with his brother's beating, that whenever Danny looked at those flowers, he'd be reminded of how proud Flack was of him.

Staring at the mess, at how callously he'd treated Flack's gift in a brief fit of rage, he felt immense shame. Never had he felt so unworthy of the present as he did at that moment.

He didn't dare to look at the homicide detective.

He felt Flack's eyes on him.

He sucked in a ragged breath. Everything was becoming blurry.

Felt Flack's hands set on his shoulders. Squeezed his eyes shut, involuntarily stiffening.

Flack turned him so that he was facing the taller man. Those big hands tightened on his shoulders.

Oh God, he couldn't bear to open his eyes and see the anger in those blue eyes -

He felt Flack's strong arms enclose around him, one hand on the back of his head, holding his head against the man's neck and broad chest, those long fingers running through his spiky hair.

"_I almost lost you_."

Flack's typically deep and resonant voice sounded so small and broken.

Danny tried extremely hard to retain his composure, but the moment those whispered words floated to his ears, his face crumpled. He swiftly buried his face into the juncture between Flack's neck and shoulder, sensing something hot and wet leak from behind his eyelids. Wrapped his arms around Flack's warm torso in a crushing hug, fingers curling into the fabric of Flack's jacket.

He was in Flack's arms again, after one week of eternal torture and loneliness, _he was in Flack's arms again_ -

Flack uttered those words once more, murmuring them into his hair. The taller man was rocking them slowly, moving back and forth as one, resting his head on Danny's. Danny felt the same hot wetness drip onto his ear.

The shorter detective breathed in Flack's scent, genuinely relaxing in Flack's embrace for the first time since their horrible fight in one of the labs at CSI headquarters. The man smelled a million times better in reality than he ever did in Danny's imagination, even after a long day and night like the one they just experienced. Flack smelled like summer. Like apple pie and blue skies.

Like home.

He pulled back a little, only to slip his arms beneath Flack's jacket and rewrap them around the guy so there was less cloth that was between him and Flack. The homicide detective was now stroking the length of his back, from shoulders to lower back in long, comforting movements. It made Danny smile into Flack's chest. Flack always stroked his back like that to make him feel better whenever he had a bad day. And it worked all the time.

Danny realized Flack was murmuring something else now.

"I'm sorry, I'm such a stupid asshole, I'm sorry …"

The CSI reluctantly lifted his head to look his friend in the eye. Flack's blue eyes were moist and heavy-lidded, his lips downturned.

"_I'm_ the one who oughta be sayin' that to _you_," Danny rasped, a little, melancholic smile curving up the ends of his lips.

"What the hell are ya talkin' 'bout?" Flack blinked, his brows low in a self-reproachful frown. "_I'm_ the freakin' idiot who trusted a dumbass _bitch_ of a reporter to- to keep her word! Thought she was all business on a one dinner deal to talk 'bout my cases, just so I could get her off our backs for _good_."

The sorrow that made Danny's heart heavy lightened tenfold more at Flack's last statement. So _that_ was why Flack went to Serafina with the mysterious woman, who must have been that irritating, stalkerish reporter Flack often complained about in last couple of months. Why hadn't he thought of the possibility it might have been _her_ he heard on the phone that night? Based on what Flack had told him, he wouldn't put it past her to pull off something like tricking Flack into a dinner date. Danny wanted to punch himself in the face.

"Don, if it hadn't been for me, you'd never have gone out with her in the first place -"

"No, _no_, you are _not_ gonna blame yerself for this, ya _understand_, Danny?" Flack grasped his upper arms, leaning forward until their foreheads touched. "It's _my_ fault. _I_ made the stupid decision to go for a dinner with her, and it had _nothin'_ to do with the whole one week a' no sex thing."

Flack sighed heavily. He rubbed their foreheads together, and shifted his hands down to Danny's lower back and twined his fingers together in a cradle hold.

"She paid a surprise visit to the precinct. Kept buggin' me 'bout my promises to talk to her 'bout various cases for her stories. So, outta the blue, she came up with some offer of a dinner at Serafina, with the condition that it was just _one_ time … and she'd stay away from me for _good_ after that."

Danny stroked Flack's arm, and smiled at the other man in encouragement.

"So, yeah, we ended up at Serafina, had some food, and I got tired a' waitin' for her to ask me questions and stuff. Thought somethin' was up when she turned up in nothin' but a _handkerchief_." Flack rolled his eyes. "I mean, that's how _small _her dress was."

The CSI snorted.

"Then, ya called … and it was best thing that happened to me that evenin'."

Danny smiled widely at that. If only Flack had known he'd been half naked from the waist down when he made that call.

"So I was talkin' to ya, and then she appeared outta nowhere after her trip to the loo -" - Flack sputtered for an instant - "And then, she called me _Don_, and I never said she could! And ya know, she'd been callin' me _Detective Flack_ the whole time! 'Course I got pissed off at her, even more so when ya stopped talkin' to me and cut the call."

Flack huffed.

"I dunno … I was so friggin' mad afterwards. So I grilled her, and she finally came clean and told me she'd literally _lied_ to get my ass to some fancy restaurant so we could have a date, 'cause, _get this_ -" - Flack made a horrified face - "She thought she and I had _chemistry!_ She actually _used_ that _word!_"

Danny couldn't help laughing at the comical expression on the taller man's mien.

"S'not funny, Danno, I nearly leapt _sixty feet _into the air when she said it, a'right?"

The CSI's cackle grew louder.

Flack was somber-faced for another minute, then grinned and guffawed together with Danny.

After a while, their laughter diminished to quiet chuckles. Flack had started rubbing their faces together. It was a little strange and also a little playful, but Danny enjoyed the physical contact. Flack was behaving like the very animal he was allergic to, a cat. A big, majestic one who was marking what belonged to him, at that.

"Don."

Flack eventually tilted back at Danny calling his name, waiting for Danny to speak. His eyes were wide, like those of a small boy who was awaiting a punishment to be meted out on him.

"I'm not angry at ya for the dinner or any of that. Maybe I was before, but then, I didn't know all the details." Danny smiled remorsefully. "So, it _is_ my own fault things went down so badly 'tween us in the last two days. I mean, I coulda … _listened_ to ya -"

"Yeah, ya _could_ have," Flack said with a smirk.

Danny dipped his head in guilt, an apologetic smile on his visage. "I know. I just … I didn't want to hear you say _goodbye_ to me." He raised his head to gaze into Flack's eyes again, and continued before Flack could cut in. "After I heard all the talk at the labs 'bout you goin' out with some _hot_ blonde with a _killer_ body … I didn't know what to think. I just … became so angry with myself. I … I thought, all this time, I'd been … _forcin'_ ya into a relationship that wasn't meant to be after al-"

"_Don't you EVER say that again_."

Flack grabbed his shoulders and shook him hard. The homicide detective's eyes were wide in affront.

"_Force_ me? _Force me?! _Wha, ya think I'm here 'cause all I want is a _good fuck? _Is _that_ it?" The taller man threw up his hands. "I thought ya _knew_ me better than that, Danny. I'm not here 'cause I only wanna _use_ ya for sex! What would make ya _think_ that?"

Flack cupped Danny's face with his hands.

"I wanna be with you 'cause I _want_ to. I _choose_ to. 'Cause just _seein'_ ya makes me higher than helium gas. 'Cause I go _crazy_ when I can't be with ya every day. 'Cause it makes me happy when _you're_ happy. 'Cause you're the best friend I ever had, the one who makes life interesting and worthwhile." Flack rubbed his thumbs against Danny's bristly cheeks. "'Cause you're the only one who really understands me. The one I wanna be with for the rest of my _life_. And yeah, the sex between us is _fantastic_. _Yeah_, I'll say it now and I'll say it again, if I could spend the rest of eternity makin' love with ya and makin' ya feel like you're in heaven, I _would_."

Flack sent him a sad smile. "I can't believe you'd think I only give a shit 'bout the sex, and nothin' else."

It took some time for Danny to form an articulate response. He had to blink numerous times to clear his sight. Flack's declaration was more than he could have ever anticipated to hear in an entire lifetime. Was the floor still under his feet? Was he still in New York city? Heck, was he still on _earth? _

Maybe Flack was already making good on his promise. Maybe he _was_ already in heaven.

The CSI placed his hands on top of Flack's.

"You were right, Don. I shoulda taken the challenge back when ya asked me to." He gave the homicide detective a wavering smile. "I was _scared_, ya know? I had to know … I had to know if we were strong 'nough to stand even with the sex taken outta the equation."

Flack's mouth was opening, and Danny knew Flack was going to gripe about him thinking sex was _that_ important to the man.

"Don, listen to me, 'kay? _I was scared_. I didn't know if things were going to end like how it always did in the past, and it seemed like it was. I didn't know how to talk to ya 'bout it. I didn't know how to do it without …riskin' _losin'_ you. And - and when you were watchin' that male modeling show and lookin' at that particular model … I dunno, _I_ … I had to know."

Flack was deadly silent for a minute.

"You mean to tell me … you made me abstain from any sorta sexual activity for one whole week … 'cause ya thought I had the _hots _for some _stranger_ on _TV?_"

Danny gulped. "Yeah."

The homicide detective made a face of total astonishment. "Wha … I … I wasn't lookin' at that guy 'cause I liked him! I was lookin' at him 'cause I thought he looked like a poor man's version of _you_."

Danny stared blankly at Flack. "… huh?"

"Yeah! I thought he looked kinda good 'cause he was like a lite version of _you! _But I wasn't _lustin'_ after him or anythin' like that at all!" Flack smirked in something akin to smugness. "Why would I want a mediocre copy … when I've got the _real thing _right here, huh?"

"Oh."

The shorter detective ducked his head. It didn't conceal his pleased grin at all.

"_Yeah_. Are ya _happy_ now?" Flack asked in an amused tone. "Would ya like me to get on my knees and kiss yer feet now?"

Danny sniggered. "Maybe later."

He wound his fingers between Flack's, pulling Flack's hands from his face down onto his chest, with Flack's right hand over his heart.

"Don, the point is …" Danny cleared his throat. "I'm sorry I imposed the whole one week celibacy thing on us. I shouldn't have done that. I should have had more faith in us, in _you_ and … I shoulda talked things through with ya, instead of jumpin' to conclusions and thinkin' the worst every time. I shoulda trusted you more." He shrugged. "I'm a proud fool. And I'm a drama queen, I know. I wanna change, and I know it won't be easy undoin' years of programmin', but I wanna change. For the better."

Flack was staring at him. He appeared stunned into silence.

Danny gazed into the taller man's eyes, desperately searching for some sign that his words got through to the guy.

Danny felt a forefinger pressing itself on his lips.

"Hold on a sec."

Flack lifted up the right side of his unbuttoned jacket, fishing for something in one of the inner pockets. He plucked out a rectangular object, black and slim, with red buttons on the side that looked a lot like a small tape recorder. He held it near Danny's mouth.

"Okay. Repeat everythin' ya said just now." The homicide detective waved his other hand in a circular motion. "Ya know, specially the bit 'bout you bein' a drama queen and me bein' king of the universe and all that."

Danny's blue eyes narrowed dangerously, but his lips twitched with mirth.

"C'mon, say it, Danny."

Danny kept quiet, smirking lightly.

Then, his smirk faltered.

Something in his chest skipped a beat or three.

Holy cow, the moment was _here_.

He could feel it deep within his heart.

The moment was here. The moment he was going to say to Flack what he'd said to no other human being in the world, except for his mother and brother.

Flack was biting his lower lip, eagerly waiting for Danny to repeat his apology.

Danny gently took the tape recorder from his friend. He held the device closer to his face, ascertaining that Flack was gazing directly into his eyes and that he held nothing back.

He depressed the recording button with a click.

"I love you, Don Flack, Jr."

Flack's face slowly went slack in shock. He was as immobile as a statue, his large eyes so wide Danny could see the white around his blue irises.

The hush that reigned was ear-splitting.

Danny chewed on his lower lip.

His hand grasping the tape recorder was trembling.

A few more seconds passed in edgy silence.

Then, Flack encircled his hand around Danny's wrist. The homicide detective moved the tape recorder closer to his own lips, still staring into Danny's eyes. Flack's eyes were glistening under the ambient living room lights.

"I love you, Danny Messer."

The tender murmur was as powerful as the bursts of a thousand supernovas.

Danny swore that the grin spread across his face was virtually from ear to ear.

Okay, that was it. He was _definitely_ soaring somewhere along the heights of the highest level of heaven.

Flack was the first to erupt into a blissful laugh. His handsome visage crinkled in an enormous, open-mouthed grin, and he touched his forehead to Danny's again, cupping Danny's lower jaw and neck with his hands. The CSI laughed heartily too, crossing his wrists behind the taller man's neck.

Wow.

So _this_ was what it really meant to be happy.

It was … indescribable. Unbelievable. A miracle of the best kind, even though he had formerly never believed miracles were ever real.

"I love you so damn much," Flack whispered, his moving lips scant centimeters away from Danny's.

The final wall around Danny's heart crumbled with barely more than a sigh.

He slanted his head, his eyelids fluttering shut, lips parting, pushing his face closer towards Flack's -

"Nuh uh."

Three fingers covered Danny's mouth, effectively blocking the kiss-to-be. He frowned at Flack, emitting a confused, questioning sound from his throat. Wha, why was the guy stopping him from -

Flack was grinning in amusement. "Four more hours, Danny."

Oh. The dumb _challenge_.

Danny made a sharp noise of protest, protruding his lower lip out against the taller man's fingers in a pout.

Flack snickered. Then, his features set in a more solemn but soft expression.

"Believe me, you have no idea how much I wanna kiss ya right now and more. But I'm a man of my word, babe. I made a promise to you, and I intend to keep it. Just like every other promise I make to ya. 'Kay?"

Danny gazed at Flack with warm, crinkled eyes. How could he have ever doubted Flack at all? And what had he done to deserve such a man like the one standing before him, who had always loved him from the beginning? He must have done something right somewhere along the line.

"Okay." The shorter detective settled for giving Flack a quick kiss on the fingers.

Flack caressed Danny's cheek with two fingers, and after a long while, halfheartedly stepped backwards, inhaling deeply.

"Have ya had dinner yet?"

Danny shook his head once.

"Okay. Guess we'll make some dinner. I haven't eaten either," Flack said.

"Can't." Danny grimaced. "No groceries, and my fridge's empty."

"Ah, right." Flack scratched the side of his neck. "Take out, then. Ya want I order from Ludwig? He oughta still be open at this time."

The CSI smiled. "Sure, his spaghetti and meat balls' good. I'm so hungry I could eat a _horse_. What are _you_ gonna get?"

Flack blatantly eyeballed Danny from head to toe and back up. "Well, I'm certainly goin' for some Italian myself, but I think I'll just stick to the usual carbonara pasta and garlic bread … I'm savin' the Italian sausage and balls for later." He winked at Danny.

Danny cackled in good humor. It felt so good to hear Flack making his silly, sexual innuendo jokes again. A certain part of his anatomy below absolutely agreed with him.

"So we'll call Ludwig, then we'll clean this up. How 'bout that?" Flack clapped his hands together.

Danny nodded.

"_Then_, we'll take a look at yer neck and see 'bout puttin' some ointment on it. Bet you'll like a _massage_ too, huh?"

Danny grinned and made a sound like a purring cat.

The taller detective chuckled. "You dunno what paradise feels like till you've gotten a massage from the _maaaasteeeeer_."

Danny merely smiled softly. He had to disagree with his lover on one thing.

He had known exactly what it felt like … from the very first moment he looked into Flack's beautiful blue eyes , and knew Flack loved him too.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Flack concluded to himself that he could really get used to slow dancing.

He could get used to slow dancing with Danny even more.

He tilted his head at a downward angle to study Danny's face. Danny was nestling his face into his chest, eyes closed. There was a healthy color to the CSI's once sallow mien, a glow that was apparent to Flack even under the dimmed lights. All that piping hot Italian food did the man a lot of good. Danny's neck was covered up in bandages to make sure the ointment on the bruises didn't rub off when they headed for bed later.

"Don't take your love away from me," Flack sang melodiously, guiding them in yet another slow turn around the living room. "Don't you leave my heart in misery …"

He felt Danny smile against his skin, felt Danny's arms draw tighter around his midriff. The shorter man was wearing nothing but his dark blue robe, and Flack's bare skin tingled wherever their bodies touched without it between them. All he had on was a pair of long flannel trousers, one of the silky-smooth, faded ones that he wore very often. Well, at least he used to, until he got together with Danny. He had not much need for pants in the man's apartment after that.

"If you go, then I'll be blue …" Flack rubbed circles all over Danny's back, continuing to sing into Danny's freshly out-of-the-shower damp hair. "'Cause breaking up is _haaard_ to _dooooo_ …"

Danny had shifted his head higher up his body, and was laughing quietly into his neck. A moment later, Flack sensed his lover's lips barely moving on his skin, along with his.

"They say that _breaaaaking up _is _haaard_ to _dooo_ … Now I know, I _know_ that it's _true_ …"

Flack tautened his embrace, breathing in Danny's unique scent. He smiled into his friend's hair. He wondered if Danny ever considered singing as an alternate career.

"Don't say that this is the end … Instead of _breaking up_, I wish that we were _making up _again …"

Danny's voice was becoming stronger.

"I beg of you, don't say goodbye … Can't we give our love another try?"

The homicide detective jumped in right on cue, persuading Danny to raise his head with a gentle pull on the man's short hair.

"Come on, baby, let's start _anew_ …"

Flack smiled broadly at the other man, running one hand through Danny's hair, and they softly sang the last line together.

"'Cause breaking up is _haard_ to _doooo_ …"

They halted to a standstill, joined from chest to thigh in the space between the living area and the kitchen, silhouetted into a single form.

Danny's wide eyes were bright and glittering even in the dark, gazing at him without any reservation. Face inches away from his own. Lips slightly parted and moist.

Flack stroked the side of his lover's face, and Danny's eyelids flickered at the touch. That was when the taller detective grabbed the opportunity to glance at the clock on the wall nearby. He grinned inwardly upon checking the time.

Ohh, _baby_, it was _over_.

He waited until Danny was looking him in the eye again, and then, in one effortless swoop, inclined forward to press his lips against Danny's. His moan was muted by Danny's strident groan as he opened his mouth wide and thrust his tongue into the other man's. Damn, it was like the first time all over again, but somehow, even _better_.

For a second, Danny simply stood there with his hands on Flack's bare upper arms, letting Flack take the reins of their escalating kiss, moaning his enjoyment. The instant the man realized what they were doing, it was as if he had been pumped full of superhuman energy and zeal. Danny twisted his fingers into Flack's dark, shorn hair, yanking Flack's head hard, impossibly shoving their gaping mouths closer than ever.

Flack let out a sound of surprise, muffled by their lips locked together in their passionate kissing. His lips reflexively curved up into an open and thrilled grin. Oh _yeah_, this was what he'd been missing for so long, Danny's mouth, those eyes, those full lips, that hard, lean body. The way Danny was running hands all over his head and shoulders and body like the man couldn't get enough of him. Or the way Danny was moaning and making those fucking hot noises that got him hard as a rock in seconds -

All of a sudden, Danny shoved himself backwards and gasped loudly. Flack was disoriented from the unexpected withdrawal, and he blinked at Danny in puzzlement. Then he saw the dismay on Danny's face, comprehended why his friend appeared so upset.

He smiled in an assuaging manner at the CSI.

"Babe, _babe_, it's _okay_," Flack said with a chuckle. "It's been over a _half hour _since the week was up."

Danny stared blankly at him.

"A h- … a _half hour?_"

"Yeah. All that time just went by in a flash thanks to dinner and watchin' TV and slow dancin' and all that." Flack tenderly caressed Danny's cheek and chin. "One week, Danny. One week of no sex … and _we made it_."

The shorter detective slowly began to smile. " … we _did_."

"_Yeah_, babe." The homicide detective chuckled once more. "We did it. And we're _still_ together, and we're _still _goin' strong. Stronger than ever."

Flack nibbled on his lower lip, suddenly feeling really nervous.

"You, _uh_ … you're not gonna … enforce _another_ week a' celibacy on me … _are_ ya?"

He studied Danny's unreadable mien in order to figure out what might happen next. Damnit, since when the hell did Danny become so good at acting? That was _his_ forte!

Danny stared at him some more, not saying anything.

Flack coughed mildly. He started tapping one of his feet on the floor.

Still unusually quiet, Danny moved his hands up to the hems of his robe at chest level.

The blue cloth parted, revealing that familiar, sexy chest with its sparse covering of hair.

The robe slipped to the floor with a rustle.

Flack's breaths became louder, increased in speed. His cock instantaneously began to harden. His hands clenched into fists in an effort to not just _burst_ with ecstasy right then and there.

Oh God, Danny was _naked_ and so damn _gorgeous_ and standing right there at an arm's length away and he was -

Danny was on his knees before him now, never once breaking eye contact.

Flack could hear the blood rushing through his ears. His heart beating at an accelerated pace.

Danny pushed his fingers beneath the waistband of his trousers.

Flack released a low whine.

In one tug, Flack's pants dropped onto the floor in a puddle surrounding his ankles and feet.

The sight of Danny licking his lips and staring at his erection like it was the most delicious thing in the universe made Flack groan inaudibly. Holy _crap_, the hunger in Danny's blue eyes was so palpable Flack could feel it feeding his own desire.

"Oh, _yeah_." Danny's tongue flitted out again. "Oh, yeah, _yeah_." The man's eyes widened.

The shorter man's mouth opened into an 'O' shape.

"Oh, _fuck_ -"

The rest of Flack's sentence was abruptly cut off in a harsh cry as Danny molded his lips around the homicide detective's cock, and swallowed him to the hilt in one go.

"Oh, _FUUUUCK!_"

The heat and wetness of Danny's mouth was mind-blowing. Danny's tongue was even more remarkable, licking and sliding and caressing the length of his throbbing erection, sending bolts of pleasure streaking through his body with every movement.

Flack panted through his mouth and propped himself up on wobbly arms on Danny's shoulders. His lanky legs were equally shaky, threatening to buckle on him at any moment. It didn't help that Danny was making so much of his high-pitched, pleasure-filled noises while his head vigorously bobbed back and forth, his hands squeezing Flack's buttocks hard.

"Dan, oh shit, _Danny_ …"

The CSI was now clutching the base of his hardened cock, the other hand rolling and fondling his balls.

"Oh yeah, you taste so _good_ -"

Danny's words became garbled once he started sucking and licking on the head of Flack's cock again. His glazed eyes fluttered close, the gratification he was deriving from pleasuring Flack evident on his flushed, relaxed features.

Flack's fingers dug into the kneeling man's shoulders. Bright starbursts of light were exploding everywhere behind his eyelids whenever he shut his eyes. The great wave of pleasure was cresting within him, causing his body to tremble more and more. His broad chest heaved as he labored to breathe.

Fuck, not even a _minute_ into the heat of things, and he was already on the very _brink_ -

"Danny … _Danny_, _stop!_"

Danny gave his aching erection one last lick from root to head, then unenthusiastically lifted his head up and away, glancing up at Flack with wide, gleaming eyes. He made a quizzical sound. There was a thin thread of saliva that hung between the shorter detective's lower lip and the rosy head of Flack's cock.

Flack licked at his own lower lip. For some reason, that string of saliva connected to Danny's swollen lip and his erection was one of the hottest things he'd ever seen in his life.

"Oh, babe, you're _fuckin' amazin'_, ya _know_ that …" Flack panted softly, then added, "But I don't wanna come … just yet."

He caught his breath, and rasped with a wicked smirk, "Wanna come _inside_ ya, when I'm _drillin'_ ya into the floor and you're _screamin'_ yer lungs out in _ecstasy_ and I _fill_ ya up _so_ good and _deep_ and _hard_. Ya _want_ that, _huh_, Danny, huh, _do_ _ya?_"

Danny's breathing was erratic and hoarse. His wet lower lip quivered.

"Oh yeah, _oh yeah_, _I want that_." The CSI's tongue flitted out in excitement. "I want you _so_ bad."

Before Flack knew it, Danny was up on his feet again, dragging his head down for another open-mouthed kiss. The taller man felt Danny's similarly hard, leaking cock slide against his between their flat bellies, pre-come sticky on their smooth skin.

After one more meeting of their lips, Danny drew back, running his hands down Flack's fuzzy chest, staring into the taller man's eyes. Flack stepped out of his trousers and stood where he was, silent and waiting.

Danny took his hand and lead them back into the living area, in front of the couch. The CSI nimbly fell to his knees, shoved the coffee table that was there nearly half a dozen feet away so they had more space before the sofa.

Flack's cock jerked in anticipation when he realized what Danny intended.

The cushions from the couch were flung onto the floor, then hurriedly arranged into a huge square.

"_Don_."

Danny had crawled on all fours onto the cushions, his knees and hands padded from the unyielding floor. He peered at Flack from behind his shoulder, his sinewy body arched into a graceful curve. His legs were spread wide apart.

Flack's wide-eyed gaze fell onto the rounded, pert globes of his lover's bottom.

His throbbing erection twitched a second time.

"_Please_, Don … I can't - I can't _stand_ it anymore," Danny uttered huskily between faint panting. "I _need_ you, need ya _so bad _…"

Flack felt a massive rush of energy flow through him at Danny's admission. His cock was so hard, the tip was literally touching his stomach. Hissing between his gritted teeth, he stroked it once with his right hand. Damn, it wasn't going to take much to make him blow. He hoped with all his heart he would be able to keep his word and make it a night to really remember.

"Okay, babe, just a _little_ longer, I _promise_."

The homicide detective noticed the tube of lubricant tucked in the side of the couch. He picked it up, then began looking around for condoms. His thick brows lowered in an irritated frown when he saw none. _Fuck it_, that was _all _he needed, _no_ _condoms_ when he was about to -

"No."

Flack knelt down beside Danny, stroking the man's curved back and down between his spread legs. He hissed through his teeth again at the warmth he encountered. Slid his fingers between Danny's buttocks, rubbing his lover's sensitive perineum and up over the small entrance into the man's body.

A violent shiver wracked the CSI's flushed, sweaty body. Danny let out a high-pitched moan, instinctively rocked his hips backwards under Flack's administrations.

"No what, babe?" Flack murmured.

"No …" Danny bowed his head, then, with some struggle, raised it and gazed at Flack with heavy-lidded, lusty eyes. "_No condom_."

One of the taller man's hands constricted around the supple flesh of Danny's bottom in disbelief.

"Danny … are you _sure?_"

"Y-yeah." Danny licked his lips, the action and the slurpy sound going straight to Flack's cock. "I'm clean, haven't been with anybody but _you_." He gave Flack a meaningful glance.

Flack swallowed visibly. "I haven't been with anybody else but you either."

The shorter man on his hands and knees licked at his lips again. "No condom, Don … I wanna _feel _ya, want _nothin' _'tween us tonight."

An elated grin slowly but surely lit up Flack's whole visage. "You got it, babe."

Danny sucked in a sudden, shuddering breath. "So … ya better get inside me _now_ … or I'm gonna go get one a' my _dildos_ and make ya _watch_ me _havin' all the fun!_"

In spite of the extreme sexual exhilaration, Flack had to laugh out loud at Danny's taunt. Damn, how he _loved_ this man. The image of Danny squirming on the cushions, pushing and pulling the dildo in and out of his body was a rather appealing one, but he much preferred Danny's former suggestion.

Without a second thought, Flack opened up the tube of lubricant and slathered a whole lot of the stuff all over his erection, inhaling sharply at the chill of the substance on his searing skin. He had to put on a lot, just to make sure he wouldn't accidentally hurt Danny.

"I'm gonna put my fingers inside you now, 'kay? I'll try and warm up the lube best I can."

Danny didn't reply. His arms and legs were visibly quaking, and Flack couldn't see the guy's facial expression since Danny had lowered his head out of sight.

Flack squeezed out more lubricant onto his hands, blowing on it until it was somewhat warm from his breath.

"Any time now … would be good," Danny mumbled.

Flack grinned. "Don't make me _spank_ you, Messer."

He heard Danny snicker softly.

Flack positioned himself behind Danny, between the man's legs. He felt Danny jolt hard as he carefully pushed one lubed forefinger inside him. Fuck, Danny was _tight_. Flack pushed his finger in deeper, twisted it around. Was it possible for a guy to tighten so much within a week? Or was Danny just tense from all the stimulation?

The homicide detective added another finger, listening to the noises Danny was making. No pained grunts or groans, just a whole lot of intense moaning and whimpers. And even more sinuous body contortions. Oh, _yeah_.

Flack pushed into a third finger. This time, it was a little bit difficult. Danny really _had_ become tighter since they last made love. The idea made Flack's anticipation shoot up.

The shorter detective had dropped onto his elbows, burying his face in the cushions below him. His new pose was such that his bottom now thrust out more than ever into the air, directly at Flack's face.

Flack turned his fingers within the contracting channel, seeking that special spot that never failed to make Danny -

"_Ohhh! _Oh, _oh fuck_, right there!"

Flack grinned broadly.

_Bingo_.

He deliberately pressed against the gland and the surrounding flesh, stroking hard with his fingers. However he was doing it, it was working exceptionally well, if Danny's piercing moans and cries were anything to judge by.

"_Don_, please, oh shit, _please_, do it _now!_" Danny shoved his hips back fiercely. "Do it nownownownownow_now_ -"

Flack drank in the vision of a naked, sweaty, hot Danny spread legged before him, glancing back at him with a flushed face, half-lidded eyes and parted, wet lips. Drank in the undeniable yearning he saw in those blue eyes so much like his own, the irrefutable love that was there.

For _him_.

Flack reared up. Smeared what lubricant was left in the crease between Danny's round buttocks. Gripped Danny's hip with a sure hand.

Lined his hard cock with the little pucker that gave him entry into his lover.

"Oh, yeah," Flack whispered.

The head of his erection disappeared inside Danny's body.

In two more spaced out thrusts, he was fully buried inside the CSI.

Flack scrunched his eyes shut, mouth falling open in a silent groan. Oh, man, being inside Danny once more felt _incredible_. Like he was finally where he truly belonged. A perfect fit.

Danny's reaction was ardent and immediate.

"Ahh_aaahhh_ … _AAAHHHH! _OhGodohGod -"

Danny was convulsing, his head thrown back in an arc, eyes closed tight. A throaty scream ripped from his throat. He collapsed onto his chest, unable to hold himself up.

Something wet spattered onto the cushions beneath the shorter detective's writhing body.

Flack groaned at the enormous pressure around his cock. The muscles within Danny was tightening around him in an almost painful way. It nearly hurt, but it also felt so fucking _good_. It was all he could do to not explode at that precise point in time.

When he was able to, he reached a hand under his lover to take Danny's erection in his hand. It was dripping and only half-hard.

It took Flack a minute or two to figure out Danny had already come.

From a _single thrust_.

In the aftermath of his orgasm, Danny lay sprawled face down on the cushions, his lower body still upright solely due to Flack buried deep inside him and Flack gripping his hip. He was panting roughly. His fingers clawed into the cushions on both sides of his head.

"Dan, you _okay? _Talk to me, buddy."

Flack plastered himself along Danny's damp back, placing kisses across the span of Danny's heaving shoulders, putting his lips close to Danny's ear.

"You okay, babe? Was I too rough with ya?"

Danny seemed to not have heard him.

Flack caressed Danny's arms, intertwining their fingers together. Now, they were connected from head to toe, inside and out.

His lover eventually lifted his head, revolving it sideways to peer at Flack with exultant eyes.

"I'm okay … that was just …" Danny cast one of his impish, fanged grins on Flack. "That was _abso-fucking-lutely amazin'_."

Flack made a very pleased sound. He planted some more kisses on Danny's shoulder, then on the bandages around Danny's neck.

"And just _one_ thrust too."

Flack smirked in amusement at the blush saturating the other man's attractive face.

"Shaddup. It's been a _while_, 'kay?"

The homicide detective laughed wholeheartedly. Boy, did he know _that_.

"I can go a few more rounds," Danny whispered, corkscrewing his hips and constricting his inner muscles. "The big question is … can _you?_"

Flack's fingers dug into Danny's hip. It was possible there were going to be light bruises there by tomorrow.

"You're treadin' on dangerous grounds there, Messer," Flack said gutturally, after his shudders of pleasure had abated. He made certain Danny saw his huge smile. .

Danny's tongue darted out. " … I'm _hard_ again. I don't think once is gonna cut it tonight." He let out an unsteady chuckle.

Flack wrapped his hand around Danny's cock. Sure enough, it was erect like the CSI said, hot and stiff like an iron brand.

The overwhelming need to see Danny's face suddenly hit him like a million tons of bricks.

"Turn 'round, babe. I wanna see yer face."

Wordlessly, Danny twisted onto his side, and then, with Flack's help, deftly rolled over onto his back while Flack maneuvered his legs until the taller detective was propping up his legs in the air. Flack loomed over Danny, hooking Danny's knees over the middle of his arms and elbows, spreading the shorter man's legs wider apart than before.

Throughout the short change of positions, Flack remained buried inside Danny.

And the shift affected Danny more than he had presumed.

"_Mmmmm_ … so fuckin' _deep_ …" Danny stared up at Flack with glossy eyes, sinking pearly teeth into the meaty part below the thumb of one of his hands.

Danny's renewed erection was leaking more pre-come onto his rippled abdomen.

Flack fixed his hands flat on the cushions on either side of Danny's chest, pushing Danny's legs supported on his arms even higher up and above their owner. Apparently, the CSI approved of the move, because a sharp moan filled the living room, followed by a series of panting breaths and the flickering of eyelids.

Flack ground his hips hard against Danny, feeling the smooth, hot skin of Danny's buttocks on his thighs.

Danny moaned loudly a second time.

"Danny. _Babe_."

Danny peeled his eyes open to slits.

"Once I start movin' … I don't think I can hold myself back anymore," Flack rasped.

He felt two hands cup his face.

"Don't hold back." Danny smiled up at him. "_Fuck me till I scream my lungs out_." The smile transformed into a roguish grin.

Flack grinned in return.

He carefully pulled out, until only the head of his cock stayed inside.

Danny whimpered.

He thrust back in, one long, gliding move into the slick, tight channel.

Danny's eyes snapped wide open, and he shouted at the top of his voice, his hands grappling wildly at Flack's neck and shoulders.

Flack withdrew. Then rammed back inside.

In. Out. In. And out again.

Danny was tossing his head on the cushion from side to side, engulfed by the sensations of Flack driving in and out of his body at breakneck pace.

"Oh God … _mmm_, ahh_aaahhh_ … _uhh_, you're so fuckin' _good _…" The shorter man released another husky yell at a particularly deep thrust, throwing his head back. "You're so _good_, Don …"

After a few more rapid thrusts, Flack fell back on his knees and feet, yanking Danny closer to him by the hips. He shifted Danny's legs onto his shoulders, and then leaned forward so that he could kiss Danny and still push himself inside his lover over and over. He swallowed Danny's cry, running his fingers through Danny's damp hair, pistoning his hips.

He was already close, very close. He had to keep the torrent of pleasure at bay, had to make Danny orgasm as many times as he could -

Flack switched their positions again, virtually bending Danny double. He pulled out completely, then rammed back in to the root, corkscrewing his hips hard. He lunged downwards to kiss the other man, nibbling on Danny's ear when Danny involuntarily tossed his head sideways at another deep thrust.

The shorter man had flung his arms up over his head, throwing the wiry muscles of his torso and arms into stark relief. His head was angled away from Flack, his mouth open wide, his eyelids fluttering.

"_Uuhhh!_ Oh, I'm _comin'_, I'm co-"

Danny's entire body and limbs quaked from the immeasurable surfeit of pleasure coursing through him. White seed spurted from his jerking, hard cock. It splattered his chest and belly. No sound emitted from between his parted lips, except a tiny sob.

Flack was enthralled into immobility by the sight of Danny's powerful orgasm. Part of his brain was already filing it as the Ultimate Wonder of the Universe. He never realized how awe-inspiring Danny appeared in the throes of extreme pleasure. It was mesmerizing. Like watching a force of nature at its peak.

"Whoa, _babe_."

He stroked Danny's warm cheek, smiling tenderly when his lover opened his eyes and returned the smile.

"I'm not done in yet," Danny whispered with a small smirk. He tentatively shifted his hips, then deliberately constricted the muscles around Flack's erection still within him. "Come on. Ride me _hard_ and put me away wet."

Flack's remnants of control splintered into innumerable pieces.

He leaned his forehead against Danny's, and immediately began slamming his hips back and forth, putting all his strength behind every thrust. He squeezed his eyes close, panting roughly at the exertion. Once in a while, he would groan audibly or mold his lips against Danny's for more kisses.

Danny showed his appreciation with high-pitched whimpers that accompanied each thrust, and moans that echoed in the apartment unless Flack had his mouth over his.

The homicide detective felt Danny frantically wrap his arms around his shoulders. Felt Danny's fingers dig into his skin. Felt the mounting tension, the imminent signal of yet another orgasm, in the man's thrashing body for the third time that night.

"Oh, _fuck_, Dan … _Danny_ …"

Danny was screaming his name.

His thrusts became inconsistent, going fast and shallow, then slow and deep.

His arms were trembling violently. Sweat was rolling into his eyes, stinging them.

He couldn't contain it anymore, he couldn't -

"I love you."

Flack's eyes opened wide. He stared into Danny's large blue ones, drowning in the fathomless oceans of the man's soul.

Danny smiled softly, touching his face.

"I love you so much."

Flack's orgasm rendered him motionless, going rigid in insurmountable bliss. Somewhere far away, he heard a man bellow. He felt the waves of pleasure wash over him again and again, rushing from his groin outwards like a neverending tsunami. And, more than anything else, he heard Danny murmur those magnificent words once more into his ear in that husky, sweet voice.

Millenias passed before Flack became fully aware of his surroundings, or where he was. The first thing his mind informed him was that he was lying flat out on top of Danny, between the CSI's legs, still inside the man, with his face smooshed into a cushion next to Danny's head. The next thing his mind informed him was Danny was clinging onto him like a boa snake, arms and legs enveloped around his shoulders and waist in a vice-like grip.

And Danny was murmuring something repeatedly, in a sorrowful, choked-up voice.

"Don't leave me … please don't leave me …"

Danny's arms and legs tightened agonizingly the moment Flack attempted to even get onto his elbows and lift himself off the man.

"Dan, _sshh_, it's _okay_ … I'm _here_, see?"

Flack tried again, but Danny simply did the same thing, begging Flack not to leave in that heart-wrenching tone. The taller man knew when to back down.

"It's okay, it's _okay_ …"

He laid back down, letting Danny stroke his hair and kiss his cheek and neck and shoulder. He, in turn, nuzzled his face against his lover's, whispering reassurances and sweet nothings. He didn't blame Danny for freaking out like he was. In fact, he was pretty close to doing it himself. He half felt like embracing Danny in a squashing hold and never let him go, and half felt like weeping openly in Danny's arms. Mostly, he felt like he was on top of the freaking galaxy, with the strength to hop from one planet to another, and dance on the stars while singing with all his heart.

A half hour passed. At least, to Flack it somewhat felt like a half hour. He wouldn't know until he checked with the clock. But that wasn't important.

What was important was that Danny had calmed down, and was merely hugging him, rather than wringing all the life out of him.

The lanky detective risked shifting his upper body upwards. There was an instant's hesitation where Danny's arms and legs stiffened. Then, those lean limbs slipped down to the sides, freeing Flack.

He planted a firm kiss on Danny's cheek.

He slowly got up, propping himself up on his elbows.

"Feelin' better?" Flack asked with warm eyes.

Danny seemed suddenly ashamed and afraid of making eye contact with him. The CSI was looking away, staring at something in the distance, lower lip chewed. His brown hair was all tousled. The bandages around his neck stood out against his tan skin.

"Hey." Flack gently nudged Danny's chin to encourage the man to look at him. "We ain't goin' anywhere, babe."

Danny gazed at him silently, blue eyes wide and boyish and stunning in the illumination of the ambient lighting. Gradually, a tiny smile curled up the ends of Danny's lips.

The homicide detective made a satisfied sound, continuing to rub his thumb across Danny's chin and lower jaw.

Another five minutes went by in a comfortable hush.

Then, Flack said, "What did ya mean by me bein' just like 'all the rest'?"

Intimately joined as they were, Flack instantaneously felt Danny going taut. He quickly wound his fingers into Danny's short hair, ensuring Danny wouldn't be able to look away.

"Tell me 'bout the rest, Danny. Tell me 'bout them so I can go _beat_ the livin' _shit_ outta them for makin' ya cry."

His statement worked exactly as he thought it would.

Danny cackled placidly, loosening up little by little.

"S'nothin', really -"

"It's somethin' to _me_ if they hurt the one I love."

Danny seemed hesitant to speak about his past relationships. However, he was smiling softly in light of Flack's zealous assertion.

"I didn't mean what I said, Don. Really. S'was somethin' stupid I said in anger." Danny quietened for a minute. "Okay … the first time it happened, I didn't think much 'bout it. I just assumed all the _sex_ was a sign things were goin' _good_, but I was dead wrong. The second time, I didn't think much 'bout it either 'cause it was a guy instead of a woman, but … after it kept happenin', I started to believe it was a surefire sign whatever relationship I was havin' was goin' down the drain." He shrugged one shoulder.

"You mean … when you and yer partner at the time start havin' lots and lots of sex, you assume it means your relationship's _failed?_" Flack frowned in bemusement.

"Somethin' like that. It always turned out to be that way, so, yeah … I kinda used it as a pretty reliable warnin' for all my relationships."

"Even _ours_," Flack growled.

Danny, unable to move his head, glanced sideways instead to avoid gazing into Flack's eyes. " … yeah."

The taller man sighed. "This is the _real_ reason ya slapped the one week of no sex on me, isn't it?"

Danny glanced back at him. "Yeah."

Flack sighed again, then smiled sideways, shaking his head. "_Talkin'_, Danny. It's a _really _simple concept, ya know. All ya gotta do, is open yer mouth and -"

He chuckled as Danny smacked him hard on the shoulder. After a while, he said, "If you're expectin' me to bail out on ya after we have tons of sex, you're gonna have a big problem."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"Our relationship can't fail … if I don't _ever_ plan to leave ya, right?"

Danny swallowed visibly, gave him a wobbly albeit contented smile. "No, it can't."

"So there we go. _Problem solved_." Flack made a face. "_See? _Wasn't that _easy? _And _aaaall_ I had to do, was _open_ my _mouth_ and -"

The rest of his sentence was smothered by Danny's lips as the CSI drew his head down for another deep kiss. Flack closed his eyes and let the other man dominate the kiss, reveling in Danny suckling and nibbling lightly on his parted lips. He ran his hands up and down the shorter man's flanks, nudging his hips forward and trying to move deeper inside his lover's body than he already was.

And against all the odds … he was fully hard again.

"Oh, man," Danny murmured in wonder. He rolled his hips upwards, rubbing his nether region against Flack's groin and his flaccid cock against the taller man's muscled abdomen.

They both released low groans.

The homicide detective squeezed one side of Danny's ample buttocks.

"Hey, you already came _three_ times in a _row_," Flack said with one raised eyebrow.

"I did?" Danny puckered his lips. "Huh. I didn't know men could do that. Thought it was a purely female thing."

Flack grinned wickedly.

"If ya say _one word _'bout me bein' a _woman_ for bottomin', I'm gonna _kick_ yer ass _so_ hard!"

Flack sniggered in good humor. "You are no woman, Danno, that's for sure. And I wouldn't want you any other way."

"Good answer."

They laughed quietly together, Flack lying back down on Danny while Danny ruffled his hair and nuzzled his face. Flack's erection was all for another round of sex, but he was too exhausted himself to even twitch a muscle, much less go for some more hip pumping action.

"I don't wanna sleep on the floor," Flack said into Danny's ear. "I gotta pull out."

"No." Danny hastily clamped his arms and legs around the taller detective's shoulders and waist once more. This time, he even tightened his inner muscles in an endeavor to keep Flack inside him.

"_Dan_ …" Flack groaned, crushing Danny to him with arms around the man's waist.

"Carry me."

"What?!"

Danny laughed. "C'mon, _carry me! _Always _braggin'_ 'bout how _strong_ ya are, now it's time to prove yer claims!"

Flack growled low in his throat. Ohh, so the little brat thought he was a _weakling_, eh? Well, he'll prove the guy wrong, alright!

"Hold on tight."

Danny wrapped his arms even tighter around Flack's shoulders, and Flack hooked his arms beneath the CSI's knees. The taller detective moved onto his knees.

"I'm gonna sit up now," Flack said.

He pushed himself upright with his hands, Danny coming up with him. Now Danny was seated on his lap, with his bent legs spread on either side of Flack's arms. The shorter detective was breathing hoarsely into his ear.

Flack grasped Danny's bottom with his hands and made a tentative attempt to rise to his feet. He grinned when a shudder shook Danny's nude body.

"_Deep_, huh?" Flack readjusted his grip on his lover, then added, "Okay, hold on to me."

With a grunt, he stood up, bearing Danny's full weight on his arms and body. He tilted back a little to sustain his balance, making a face of mild surprise when he remained on his feet, hardly feeling the brunt of Danny's weight. Huh. Either Danny got slimmer, or he got tougher.

"_Ohh_, that feels _good_," Danny rasped.

Flack headed for the bedroom, which was thankfully nearby.

"Yeah, I'm _Superman_," Flack said with a wide smirk. He kissed Danny on the lips, so certain of his surroundings he didn't bother to see where he was going.

"We _gotta_ try this position in the mornin'." Danny kissed him again. "_Mmm_."

"Horny bastard." Flack sent the man a happy grin.

"Takes one to know one." Danny stuck his tongue out.

Flack was still laughing as they fell together onto Danny's unmade bed. He partially slid out, and Danny swiftly used lean legs on his buttocks to push him inside again.

"I'm gonna slip out when we fall asleep, ya know." Flack held Danny with one arm around the CSI's waist, then agilely rolled onto his back with Danny lying on top of him.

"S'okay," Danny murmured. He sat up, supporting himself with hands on Flack's stomach. "Doesn't matter. S'long as we're together as long as possible." He reached behind him to grab his rumpled blanket. Spread it over Flack's feet and yanked the rest of it onto his shoulders.

Flack opened his arms for Danny to settle himself on his chest and shoulder. Danny's facial hair tickled his neck.

"That's gonna be a _long_ time, ya can count on that."

Flack felt Danny smile.

The homicide detective inhaled deeply. He drew circles on Danny's lower back above the blanket, undulating his hips once in a while to keep his erection hard and slide in and out of the other man's hot body. Danny would moan softly, clutching his free hand and entwining their fingers together.

Flack gave the limp man a gentle peck on the forehead. Stared up at the ceiling with heavy-lidded eyes, at the neon, glow-in-the-dark constellations he had pasted there for Danny's birthday last year.

Hey. Wait a minute.

He frowned slightly.

"Dan?"

"Hmmm?" Danny sounded like he was nearly fast asleep.

"Did you stick some more stars on the ceiling?"

"Uh hmm. Not stars." Danny nestled his face into Flack's neck. "Sun."

Flack studied the latest addition to the mini-constellations on the ceiling. As expected, the glow-in-the-dark stickers were indeed arranged in the symbolic round shape of a sun, wavy rays encircling it too. But, wait. There were more stickers within the sun.

Flack's eyes narrowed in concentration.

They were arranged into … letters.

He stopped breathing as comprehension dawned on him.

_DF_.

They were his initials.

And they were inside the sun, in the center of all the constellations.

The center of the universe.

Danny considered Flack to be the center of his universe.

Wow.

There was a warm wetness behind Flack's eyes. His throat was suddenly feeling clogged. He swallowed, unable to say a word. He kissed Danny a few more times on the man's forehead, stroking Danny's hair. The near unconscious man let out an inaudible moan, tightening his embrace around Flack's torso, sliding their legs together.

Flack stared at the miniature universe on Danny's bedroom ceiling for some time.

Out of the blue, the most marvelous question popped up in his head.

And he _had_ to know the answer.

"Danny?"

He felt Danny's eyelashes fluttering against the skin of his neck.

"Hnnn?"

Flack bit his lower lip, then grinned from ear to ear.

"Ya don't happen to have a cheerleader's outfit and pom-poms ... do ya?"


	12. Part 12

**One Week**

Fandom: CSI:NY

Author: Kimmychu

Rating: FRAO (we're talkin' Karma Sutra-rating here)

Pairing: Danny/Flack

Content Warning: Major sexual tension, Flack-snark overload, dirty thoughts. Lotsa dirty thoughts.

Spoilers: Meh, nothing important, but to be safe, post Season 2.

Summary: Danny and Flack love to dance the horizontal tango. Everyday. Three times a day. And night. But one day, Flack says yes, and Danny says no. What will Flack the sex maniac do when his lover gives him the ultimatum of no sex … for one whole week?

Disclaimer: YES, THEY BELONG TO ME - I mean, why, of course not, they're just fictional … hot … characters. Mmm, hot.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Author's Notes: Yep … the story finally concludes in this last installment! - _sniff_ - It feels like another baby of mine has grown up and flown out the nest. Well, I've still got a few more multi-chaptered stories to do, so it's not so bad. Heh. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this last part of the story. At first, I planned for the previous installment to be the last, but then, I felt that Herman deserved a resolution to his story, as well as the thing going on between Mac and Stella. Thank you all for your reviews! I appreciate them all.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

**xiii. Kakila**

Danny hated going to hospitals, even more so when they were psychiatric hospitals. There was something about them that made shivers run up and down his spine, or the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end. The not-quite-there smell of disinfectant in the air. The drabness of the walls and floors. The overwrought, laden silence that was as heavy as the earth itself.

Hospitals reminded him of pain. The pain of watching over his only brother, lying in that bed in a deep coma, covered in purplish bruises and cuts. Imagining the pain Louie must have gone through, what he might have been thinking in those few moments. Listening to the ventilator pumping air into Louie's lungs. Wondering if it was already too late to say the things he always wanted to tell his brother, from his heart.

He hated going to hospitals, but it wasn't as bad as it used to be. Not since Louie's brown eyes opened and Louie smiled at him, days after doctors told him there was no hope at all for any recovery.

Doctors weren't God. They weren't always right.

And second chances were, beyond doubt, one of the sweetest gifts in the world.

"Detective Messer?" A blonde, short-haired doctor in a white coat approached him in the hospital lobby where he'd been waiting for the last five minutes. She held out her hand, sending him a polite smile. "I'm Marie Evans, one of Herman's doctors."

"Hey, how ya doin'?" Danny replied almost automatically and shook her hand. He returned her smile with one of his own, displaying his pearly teeth and baby fangs.

"What brings you here to Lockhaven Hospital, detective?"

There was an inconspicuous iciness in her brown eyes. Danny could tell she was gauging him. Suspicious of him. The wariness got him edgy, until comprehension dawned on him as to why the doctor was feeling that way in the first place.

Danny's smile grew wider.

"I know how much Herman's teddy bear means to him …" He lifted up the white plastic bag he clasped in his left hand, and pulled a dirt-free, sewn up teddy bear out of it. "So I thought I'd clean it up some and get it back to him. Another police officer found it."

The coldness vanished on the spot from Dr. Evans' gaze, and the smile that curved up her pink lips transformed her from an average-looking woman to a benevolent beauty.

"That's very kind of you, Detective Messer," Dr. Evans said in a happy tone. "Herman hasn't been himself since he lost his teddy." Her expression became more somber, although her eyes were still crinkled in gratitude. "I'm really surprised to see you here, to be honest. Especially after what happened …" She trailed off into silence.

Danny realized she was gazing at the healing bruises on his neck. "Hey, trust me, it looks way worse than it feels. Really."

The doctor gave him a poised smile.

The CSI put the teddy bear back inside the plastic bag. "I know it seems weird for me to wanna visit the guy who kidnapped me, huh?" He scratched the side of his neck. "Guess I shoulda been more specific 'bout why I wanted to pop up here."

Dr. Evans chuckled. Yep, she was definitely warming up to him.

"I'm not here to do any harm to Herman, or for revenge or anythin' silly like that, if that's what you were thinkin'," Danny said in reassurance. "I just … wanted to see how he's doin'."

He paused for a moment.

"For the record, I know his actions weren't intentional. He had no idea what he was doing." He huffed out a tiny laugh. "Seriously, he was more frightened than _I_ was, by the end of it. He's like a _child_, isn't he?"

The doctor nodded. "A child living in a grown man's body, yes."

Danny angled his head to one side. "He's … autistic?"

"Semi-catatonic. It's the closest diagnosis we have for his condition. He reacts to his name … once in a while. Sometimes he exhibits echolalia." Dr. Evans gesticulated with her hands. "That's a parrot-like repetition of a word or phrase just spoken by another person. Sometimes it's catalepsy."

"Muscular rigidity. Means his limbs will remain in whatever position they're placed, somethin' like that, right?"

"Yes, that's right," Dr. Evans said. "But most of the time, he goes into a complete stupor where he doesn't respond to any external stimuli. He would simply pet his teddy bear in a repeated fashion, or talk with it. It brings him a lot of comfort."

The detective's brows lowered in a discontented frown. "How long has he been like this?"

"Forty-three years. Ever since he was five years old."

Danny's lower jaw sagged. "He's been like this longer than I've been _alive_."

"There are many other patients in the hospital who are in similar situations. Herman is one of the _lucky_ ones. His father is one of the wealthiest men in the United States, which means Herman will have the best treatment and care at all times." The blonde doctor's expression turned melancholic, with a tinge of cynicism. It was evident she found the concept of only the rich having the privilege of therapy and healing to be less than acceptable.

"So does his dad visit him?"

Dr. Evans gave him a mirthless smile. "I'm sorry, that's confidential."

Danny pursed his lips. "I'm gonna take that as a no."

Her smile became more of a close-lipped grimace.

All of a sudden, Danny felt restless, rocking on his feet. The thought that Herman's very flesh-and-blood - his own _father_ - didn't give a rat's ass about the guy got to the CSI in a very prickly way. It dredged up pangs of empathy deep within him.

"Does Herman ever talk with you 'bout his _mom?_"

The question seemed to astound Dr. Evans. " … what?"

"_Herman_. Does he ever talk 'bout his mom?"

The woman stared at him in silence.

Danny became motionless. He cleared his throat. "You mean to tell me … he's _never_ talked about what happened to him?"

"Detective Messer, Herman hasn't directly spoken to _anyone_ in _decades_. The most animated reaction we've ever gotten out of him, where he displayed some sign of awareness of his surroundings, was six years ago. He responded to some music by waving his arms and rocking in time to it. And even that was brief."

"He _talked_ to me. That's how I found out 'bout his mom."

Dr. Evans motioned towards the elevators near the reception counter of the hospital lobby. "I'll walk with you to Herman's room. Please, do tell me what Herman said to you."

As they stepped into one of the elevators, Danny said, "He kept sayin' over and over that 'the bad men were gone', and he kept askin' me why his 'mommy was so red' … I don't think he knew he was actually talkin' to somebody, but he did answer me whenever I asked somethin'."

The doctor nodded, listening attentively to him.

"So I asked him who the bad men were, and what happened to his mommy, and eventually, he told me 'bout it." He bit his lower lip. "His mom was killed in a house robbery, wasn't she?"

The elevator released a shrill ding, and the doors opened.

"As I mentioned earlier, Herman's father is a very rich man, a _billionaire_, in fact. When Herman was five years old, a gang of robbers broke into their mansion home. Only Herman's mother was there with him at the time, along with some housemaids, a couple of security guards and their butler. His father was away on a business trip," Dr. Evans said. "Herman was the only one left alive. The police found him in one of the living rooms, hugging a teddy bear, kneeling next to his mother's corpse. Her head had been blown apart by a shotgun, and it happened right in front of him. He was drenched in his mother's blood." Her brown eyes were shuttered. "He's been trapped in that moment of time inside his mind, ever since."

Danny swallowed visibly. That would make _anyone_ lose it. Much less, a little five-year-old child who probably had no idea whatsoever what death was. An innocent, helpless boy whose heart couldn't bear the horrific enormity of what he had witnessed.

"He _spoke_ to you," Dr. Evans murmured, almost to herself. "That's _incredible_ progress. That's very good news."

The blonde doctor was guiding him towards a room midway down the wide corridor, where a tall, muscular black man in an orderly's plain white uniform stood next to the half-open door.

"Good morning, Dr. Evans." The orderly had an exceedingly deep, booming voice. His brilliant smile tempered the fierceness of his broad facial features.

"Chidubem." She returned an equally warm smile. "How is he?"

"Quiet. He's still drawing at his table. First time I've ever seen him do that, doctor. He's quite good," Chidubem said in an accented voice. He eyed Danny with curious, heavy-lidded eyes. After a moment, he looked back at Dr. Evans and his expression hardened. "Dr. Chominsky ordered that he be chained. Herman didn't like it one bit."

The orderly's disgruntled expression indicated he felt the same way.

Danny glanced sharply at the blonde woman beside him.

Dr. Evans sighed. "Dr. Chominsky is Herman's chief doctor, has been for over thirty years now. He's … very strict when it comes to Herman's psychotherapy."

"_Chained up? _What, is that what this Dr. Chomi-what'shisname does to Herman a lot?" Danny demanded crossly.

Chidubem snorted.

Dr. Evans grimaced. "I'm afraid to say that Herman is prone to … violent episodes, depending on the situation. Dr. Chominsky restrains Herman only if it's absolutely necessary. And whenever they have a therapy session."

"Yeah, that's because _he's_ the only guy around Herman likes to beat up," Chidubem commented with an expansive smirk.

Danny snickered. They only met minutes ago, but he was beginning to like this guy.

"Well, Detective Messer, would you like to see Herman now?" Dr. Evans asked.

Danny gazed through the partially open door into Herman's room. He could see part of a table and the giant man's lower legs and ankles. And the metal bands around them. He scowled. Violent episodes or not, the guy didn't deserve to fettered like some animal at a circus.

"Sure. If it's okay with Herman."

Dr. Evans smiled at him. "Chidubem and I will go in with you."

Herman's room was more like a cell, small as it was. Its one window with its metal grills amplified the sense of unmerited incarceration that hung in the air. The room was sparse of any personal belongings. As a matter of fact, there was nothing in there that Danny saw that could have been deemed personal. The bed with its brown blanket and white pillow were identical to those he observed in other patients' rooms. So was the square table where a disconsolate, lethargic Herman sat. The hulking man was hunched over, dressed in the same beige hospital garb, doodling without purpose on a piece of paper with a piece of red crayon. There were more papers strewn across the table top. Some were blank, some were covered with childish drawings in black and red. The messy sketches all appeared the same.

"Herman?" The blonde doctor slowly neared the table, staying within Herman's sight the whole time. "It's me, Marie. You have a visitor today! Isn't that great?"

Herman didn't react. He continued to scribble on the papers before him, utterly unaware of his surroundings. The chains between his wrists clinked as he did.

Dr. Evans stroked the back of Herman's head, smiling at her patient even though she knew he would never see it. "Herman, what's that you're drawing there? Would you like to tell me?"

Nothing.

The room was very quiet, except for the scrape of a crayon traveling across smooth paper.

Herman's lips were downturned in an upside down 'U' shape. The puffy redness around the man's squinted eyes told Danny the mental patient had been through a crying jag or three. Yeah, he could really relate to that too.

"Look, Herman, there's someone here to see you." Dr. Evans raised her head and gave him a subtle hand wave to approach.

The CSI took measured steps towards Herman and the doctor. He couldn't help feeling a little apprehensive and nervous, the only outward indication of his emotions the clenching of his hand around the handles of the plastic bag with the teddy bear in it. But, it was just a little. The tangible sadness in Herman's glassy, hazel eyes brought out so much more sympathy in him.

"Hey, Herman. Remember me?" Danny asked with an amiable smile.

The room door creaked, and Danny pivoted around to see Chidubem carrying in a chair. Danny thanked the orderly for it, then sat down on it, opposite Herman at the desk.

At first, the big man didn't respond to Danny's greeting. Herman had a black crayon in hand now, scrawling a simplistic drawing of what appeared to be a female stick figure with long hair, attired in a long dress the shape of a triangle. After a few seconds, Herman blinked, and seemed to realize Danny was there sitting in front of him. He lifted his head at a languid pace, gaze flitting here and there, unable to lock itself onto Danny.

"Herman." Danny risked placing his hand on top of Herman's nearest one, which was the man's left. He wasn't worried about Herman involuntarily hurting him again. The orderly Chidubem, who was standing alert behind him, was there to ascertain that wouldn't happen.

"Remember me, big guy? Ya mistook me for yer teddy."

His latter statement prompted the shackled mental patient to straighten up. Those innocent, guileless eyes widened.

"Teddy."

"Yeah, that's right, ya thought I was yer teddy, remember?" The CSI attempted his best to make eye contact with Herman. "Dr. Evans said you haven't been yerself without yer teddy."

"Teddy." The uninhibited sorrow in the man's hoarse voice struck Danny hard.

"Well, guess what, Herman?" Danny took out the teddy bear from the plastic bag and held it aloft, passing it to the gargantuan man with both hands. "Here he is!" He gently shook it to get Herman to look at it. "Look, it's yer teddy!"

There was something very poignant about the overjoyed, baby-like smile that spread across Herman's blocky features, something incredibly sweet and heart-wrenching at the same time.

"_Teddy!_"

The black crayon fell from Herman's lax right hand onto the table top.

Two large hands plucked the toy out of Danny's grasp.

"Teddy. Found you again, teddy."

There was something even more moving about the way Herman cuddled the furry, clothed bear to his broad chest. The way he tucked it under his chin and petted it with all the affection in the world.

"It's okay now, teddy. Bad men are gone. Safe now."

Dr. Evans, who had stepped aside to give Danny and Herman some space, was smiling tenderly. Her brown eyes glistened in the morning sunlight streaming in through the window.

Danny glanced behind him at the robust hospital orderly in white. Chidubem was smiling too, a close-lipped one that was no less kind. The CSI turned back to face Herman, feeling a weight leave his shoulders, a weight that had been there since he learnt of Herman being chained up. It heartened him to know that Herman was not as alone and unloved as he assumed in the beginning.

He beckoned Dr. Evans to come closer to him.

"I know this is gonna be a strange request," Danny said to her. "Do ya mind if I talked with Herman in privacy? Just for a little while?"

The doctor gazed intensely at him. "Are you sure? He's restrained, but -"

"Yeah, I'm - I'm sure." The ends of Danny's lips curled up. "Thing is, when he talked to me, it was just the two of us. I was thinkin', he might talk again if …" He shrugged.

Dr. Evans glanced at Chidubem, then looked at him once more. "I see what you mean. Alright, if you feel that will help Herman in any way. However, Chidubem has to remain by the door. That's the furthest an orderly can go whenever a blacklisted patient has a visitor. Is that fine with you?"

Danny nodded. "Blacklisted?"

"I - … Breaking out of the hospital is a grave transgression."

"Yeah, well." Danny watched Herman rocking back and forth in his seat, hugging his teddy. Narrowed his blue eyes at the sunlight reflecting off the steel rings around the mental patient's wrists, and the chain drooping between them. "If I was locked up like an animal in a cell for decades and nobody gave a damn 'bout me, I'd wanna escape too."

Dr. Evans' eyes spoke volumes.

"Please don't hesitate to call for us if you require assistance, Detective Messer."

Danny nodded a second time. "Sure."

The click of the door closing echoed within the room.

Herman was ruffling his teddy bear's head, his eyes almost shut, mumbling under his breath.

Danny had no clue whether the giant man would respond to him now that they were alone. What occurred that night might have just been a fluke.

Nevertheless, he had to give it a shot.

"Remember me, Herman? It's Danny."

Herman was staring blankly at his own doodles. "Danny."

"Yeah, that's right." Danny sent him a benign smile. "My name's Danny Messer. I'm a crime scene investigator. That means I examine crime scenes. Ya know, look for evidence to catch bad guys."

"Bad guys." Herman glanced from side to side, eyes never lingering on a single spot for long.

Danny sighed. This must be the echolalia thing Dr. Evans mentioned. Herman was merely repeating what he was saying.

He tapped his fingers on the cool table surface. Looked down at the drawings scattered around. He squinted while he studied one closest to him. It was a very rudimentary but clear image of a long-haired woman in a dress, scrawled all over in red, particularly around the head. Danny didn't need to guess twice what the red color represented.

Time for a different tactic.

"Who's _this_, Herman?" Danny said with a mellow timbre, pointing at one of the crayon doodles. "Ya wanna tell me 'bout her?"

Herman seemed to not have heard his query at all. The man continued to stroke his teddy bear, quiet and smiling to himself.

"Herman." Danny tapped the tip of one forefinger on a drawing. "Who is she, Herman? Can you tell me who she is?"

"Mommy."

The blue-eyed detective perked up in his seat. Was that just a random answer, or was Herman actually reacting to him?

"Mommy," Herman said again. "Mommy sleeping?"

The man's eyes were huge and ingenuous, transfixing Danny where he sat.

The CSI pursed his lips into a thin line. His hands tightened into fists on the table surface. There was such an immense part of him that ached to tell Herman a comforting lie, a lie that his mother was alive and well.

Danny gritted his teeth. _No_. It was _wrong_.

Only the truth would ever set Herman free.

"No, Herman. She isn't sleepin'." He took a deep breath, tensing up. "She's dead."

An uneasy ten seconds of silence passed by.

Herman had become motionless. Those big, hazel eyes kept gazing at Danny.

"Dead … what is dead?"

Danny's eyelids flickered shut over suddenly hot eyes.

He wasn't in a tiny room in a psychiatric hospital anymore. He was back at that cemetery, blaming the bright morning sun for the stinging wetness in his eyes. Staring at the dark brown coffin that housed the skeletal remains of one of his best friends, who had been a beautiful, sarcastic, witty woman, a woman he might have been in love with once upon a time. Sensing Flack's reassuring arm around his shoulders, the strength that flowed into him from his other best friend.

How could he explain death to a childlike, mentally scarred man … when he didn't even begin to comprehend it himself?

"It's …" Danny coughed in order to clear his congested throat. "When somebody dies … it means they're no longer alive. Alive, like you and me." He leaned forward over the table, looking Herman in the eye. "When somebody's alive, it means they … their _souls_ are still inside their bodies. Do you understand?"

Herman did nothing but blink.

The CSI bit his lower lip.

Then, the perfect idea struck him.

Danny opened his jacket and rummaged through the inner pockets on the left side. Once he found what he was searching for, he tugged it out, leaving it on the table between them.

The colossal mental patient inclined forward to stare at the latex glove, acting as if he was interested in what it was supposed to be.

"This is a glove I use for work, Herman," Danny said. He picked up the glove, and shook it to show the man how flimsy and light it was. "It's made from latex. That's a synthetic, rubber-like substance ya get from rubber trees."

Danny slipped on the glove on his right hand.

"See, this glove is like a person's body … and my hand is like the soul of that person."

He wriggled his fingers for Herman to see.

"When somebody's alive, their soul is inside their body. You can tell because they can move and talk and laugh and all that. But when they die …"

Danny slowly removed the glove and placed it on the table, a puddle of pale yellow latex.

"Their soul leaves the body. And the body becomes nothin' more than an empty shell."

He waited with patience for any response from Herman.

Herman was still staring at the glove, angling his head from side to side, then looking here and there, but not really seeing anything.

A minute went by.

All of a sudden, Herman gazed straight into Danny's eyes.

"Where … does it go?"

A surprised albeit pleased grin gradually split the CSI's lower face. Well, _damn_. Against all the odds, Herman understood what he'd said.

"The soul?"

"The soul," Herman mimicked. His large right hand was resting on the table top, over his drawings and near the glove.

Danny laid his left hand on Herman's hand and patted it.

"Well … it goes to a place called _heaven_." Danny smiled compassionately. "See, heaven's a special place, 'cause people can only go there after their souls leave their bodies. And it's a very special place because it's a place where there's no more pain … no more sadness, no more heartache." He sucked in a moist breath. "No more death."

Even as he said all this, anguish-tainted memories flowed to the forefront of his thoughts, flashing images of Aiden, with her long, brunette hair billowing in the spring breeze. Aiden, laughing anyway at one of his awful jokes, playfully punching him in the arm. Aiden, hugging him and Flack as she told them how happy she was they'd _finally_ used their brains and gotten together after so long -

"Is she … there?"

Herman's mellifluous question jolted Danny out of his sorrowful reminiscence.

The bespectacled detective stared at the shackled man, his blue eyes wide and gleaming.

He gave Herman a wavering smile, and he said with a hoarse voice, "Yeah … yeah, she is."

Something began to unravel within Danny's chest.

"No bad men?"

Fire and smoke suddenly flooded Danny's mind, an appalling vision of a car set on fire, a raging funeral pyre. He ground his teeth together. Blinked, and the imagery was replaced with that of Aiden's murderer behind bars, the metal door slamming shut with a clang. And above all else, the fear in Pratt's eyes while he stared out through the gaps between those steel rods.

"No bad men. Ever," Danny said firmly.

Herman nuzzled his nose and mouth into his teddy bear's head, between its ears.

Danny glanced downwards at his left hand on the table. Somehow, the mental patient's hand was now on top of his, warm and dry.

The physical contact triggered yet another recollection of Aiden, one that took place nearly four years ago, when they were still getting to know each other. He and Aiden were at Sullivan's, after a long day shift of tedious lab work and evidence processing. It was just the two of them. For some reason, everyone else had their own plans for the night, including Flack. Danny had been disappointed with the homicide detective's absence at the start, but as the evening progressed, Danny found that he really enjoyed Aiden's company.

He remembered the way the ambient lights of the bar seemed to make Aiden's eyes glow. He remembered how close she was to him, inches apart. He remembered her hand, a feather's touch, on his. Remembered the softness of her lips against his. A butterfly kiss that was all too brief.

"_I like you too, Danny, but … we both know the truth. He's the one. And some day, I hope he'll see it too."_

The impact of Aiden's words had yet to fade.

Danny's vision was blurry.

And someone was patting his hand.

"She's okay."

Placid, hazel eyes grounded him in the present.

Danny couldn't say a word, his breath hitched. It was unreal. He had come to visit Herman with the original objective to spend some time with the man, to show he had no hard feelings about his inadvertent kidnapping. Maybe even comfort the unfortunate mental patient.

He never expected it to be the other way around.

The CSI ruminated on something insightful Hawkes once said. Not many people knew it, but, scientist that he was, Hawkes believed in God as well. The former medical examiner confessed that his faith sometimes wavered in the onslaught of death and injustice they faced in their daily work. Yet, there was one thing he was forever sure of, that when it felt like it was the end of the line, when it seemed like nobody at all cared, God had a way of passing on a message of hope via the most unlikely ways and people.

"She's … okay."

Herman left his hand resting on Danny's. He was glancing here and there in an erratic fashion again, clutching his teddy bear tightly, face devoid of expression.

Danny placed his right hand on top of Herman's, sandwiching it between both of his to return the gesture of consolation. Was Herman really aware of what he was saying, or was he just uttering random words? Danny concluded that it was, perhaps, one of those things that wasn't meant to be known.

He sat there in a calm, peaceful silence with the shackled man for a long while, asking Herman questions whenever the man said anything coherent, optimistic that Herman would talk a little more. He didn't even realize how long he'd been in the room till Dr. Evans appeared out of the blue beside him.

"I'm sorry, Detective Messer. It's time for Herman's therapy session this morning."

Danny acknowledged the doctor's remark with a nod. He got to his feet, pulling away his hand with some reluctance from beneath Herman's, who didn't notice the action.

"You take care a' yerself, a'right?" The blue-eyed detective rubbed Herman's smooth head. "I promise I'll visit ya as often as I can."

Herman was doodling on the papers on his desk once more, oblivious to the world around him.

Outside in the hallway, Danny noticed that Chidubem was gone. He must have been called to another room or something. After Dr. Evans stepped out of the room, she turned to Danny and started to speak. Danny cut in with, "There's somethin' I wanna ask ya."

The doctor stilled. "What is it?"

"I noticed all the doors of the patients' rooms have pretty hi-tech locks."

"Yes, they're activated using passwords punched into the number keypad. We want to make sure the patients don't leave their rooms unsupervised."

"Hmmm." Danny raised his head to gaze at the security cameras attached to the ceiling, evenly spaced out down the corridor. "And those cameras, are they on all the time?"

"Of course. Security is a top priority."

Danny gave her a meaningful look. "I was thinkin' 'bout how it was possible for a guy like Herman to be able to escape the hospital, what with all these hi-tech security, ya know? I mean, a _five-year-old _kid in a man's body … he wouldn't even know where to begin with the lock on his door, much less avoid bein' detected by the cameras and hightailin' it outta here."

Dr. Evans wasn't making eye contact with him, which made him more certain than ever that his suspicion was accurate after all.

"_You_ sprung him, didn't ya?"

The blonde woman was quiet for a second, then said, "Yes. I did. And I've done it more than once. Herman, _he's _… he was always well-behaved whenever we went outside, and he was under my constant supervision. But that night, Herman dropped his teddy bear and -" An anxious, penitent expression materialized on her visage. "I'm _so _sorry, detective. I know if I hadn't sneaked Herman out that night, you wouldn't have had to experience what you did. I just - I just couldn't bear to see him _imprisoned_ in there, day and night … and Dr. Chominsky's _treatments_, I … I won't blame you if you decide to report me, Detective Messer -"

"Whoa, _whoa_, hold on a _minute_ there, Doc." Danny chuckled, his eyes crinkled. "I'm not gonna report you."

"You … you won't?"

"Nah." Danny grinned. "On the contrary, I think it's great of ya to do that for Herman. I was half thinkin' a' doin' it myself, and maybe give Dr. Chomiminiskee a taste of his own medicine."

Dr. Evans laughed. Her expression was back to its early jovial mode.

"Thank you."

One of the CSI's eyebrows shot up. "What for?"

"For caring about Herman," Dr. Evans said with an indebted beam in her brown eyes. "And bringing some peace to his heart."

Danny gazed through the open door at the giant man, sitting under the vivid, cascading sunshine, snuggling his broad face against his teddy bear. The detective smiled.

"Believe me … he wasn't the only one who found some peace today."

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

"_That's_ the way! _Uh huh_, _uh huh_, I _like_ it!"

Flack's shoes made piercing, squeaky noises as he danced across the floor of the glass-walled laboratory.

"_That's_ the way! _Uh huh_, _uh huh_, I _LIKE_ it!"

Danny sniggered. Okay, his blue-suited lover wasn't quite dancing. It was more like … some weird aberration of the robot dance and the tango combined.

"Don, what are ya _doin'?!_" Danny had to bite his lower lip to stop himself from going into a full blown laughing fit.

Flack pirouetted to a halt in front of Danny, who sat on a stool near a color printer, still humming that song under his breath. "Doin'? What's it look like I'm doin'? I'm _dancin'!_"

Danny made a funny noise between his pursed lips. "No, you're _not_."

"Yes, I _am_, _Mr. Smartypants_," Flack retorted, making a funny face. "Just like I did at the party at yer apartment the night before!"

"Thank God everybody was too _drunk_ to notice you havin' _seizures_, ya _freak_." Danny's sarcastic words were toned down by the undeniable grin on his face.

"Admit it, babe, you're just jealous of my _booty_." Flack pirouetted a second time and wiggled his bottom from side to side.

Danny lost whatever self-control he had left, laughing until his eyes were scrunched shut at Flack's taunt. _What! _Booty?! _Everybody_ knew _he_ was the one who had the best _booty_ in the labs! And since when did Flack know how to whirl around and around like a ballerina like that?

It took a while for the CSI to regain his composure. Flack wasn't making it any easier by doing a parody of the Moonwalk, and then tripping and falling on his ass. The clumsy _klutz_.

"Geez, you're in a _jolly_ mood today," Danny said with an immense amount of affection.

Flack, whose lanky limbs were all akimbo, grinned like a naughty boy at him from the floor.

A low droning noise emanated from the printer, and Danny glanced at it. Ahh, the DNA results were out. He sauntered over to the machine.

In an instant, two strong arms wrapped around his midriff from behind.

"Guess I'm still in the party mood," Flack murmured into his ear. The homicide detective nuzzled his face into Danny's exposed neck above the collar of his blue, V-necked sweater.

"Don … I dunno if you've noticed, but the lab has _glass walls_." Danny elbowed Flack in the tummy.

"Doesn't matter. I'll just tell 'em I'm doin' some _karate_ move on ya or somethin'."

Danny snorted.

Flack's arms tautened around his torso.

He felt Flack's lips moving against his ear.

"You looked so damn _good_ in that cheerleader's costume."

Blunt teeth nibbled on his ear lobe.

"Specially that … _g-string _… and those _socks_."

Danny gasped.

"You're wearin' them now … aren't ya?"

The CSI's eyelids fluttered.

Without warning, somebody in a white lab coat walked past the lab.

"_Don!_" Danny elbowed Flack in the belly once more, harder than the last time.

Flack let out a grunt. The pressure around Danny's midriff disappeared.

The hallway outside the laboratory was empty again.

The paper with the DNA results printed on it drifted from Danny's hand down onto the table surface. He twisted around and smacked the taller man hard on his chest, eyes wide in mortification.

"Ya _nut! _Somebody might have _seen_ us!"

The homicide detective couldn't answer, because he was snickering too much. His shoulders shook with mirth. Danny whacked him a second time in the same spot.

"_Owww_, will ya _quit _that?" Flack rubbed at the left side of his chest, pouting at the shorter detective. Suddenly, his blue eyes narrowed wickedly. "_Dooooooon't_ make me _dance_ some more."

Danny's lips twitched in amusement. "_Oohh_ no, you _don't_ -"

"I'm gonna _daaaaaaance_ -"

"Don't you _dare _-"

Oh crap, Flack was doing those awful, _awful_ dance moves that were mercifully obsolete since the eighties. Danny might love the man with his entire heart, but there were some things about his lover that caused even _him_ to scream.

And not in the good way.

With a yell of terror, Danny slapped his hands over his eyes, cupping the lenses of his spectacles with his palms.

"_Your butt is miiine, gonna take you right -"_

Danny's shout grew exponentially in volume.

Oh _shiiiit_, of all the songs the dork had to pick, he had to pick one by _Michael Jackson!_

"_Because I'm baaaaad, I'm baaad, you know it! Because I'm baaaaad, I'm baad -_"

A recognizable, female voice rang clear in the air, overwhelming Flack's brain-exploding singing.

"Oh. My. _GOD_."

Danny gambled the safety of his sanity by opening his eyes and taking a look at the lab's doorway.

It was Stella, dressed in a khaki-colored, scoop-neck top with black pants, gaping in complete horror at Flack.

"Flack. For the sake of the fragile future of the universe, _please don't EVER do that again_."

Danny burst out laughing.

Flack's mien flushed.

"I do _NOT_ dance that bad!"

"_Yeah_. Says the man who's singing he's _baaaad_," Stella said with a humorous face while she ambled into the lab to stand with them. She was holding what appeared to be a big, brown envelope that was sealed and contained some papers inside it.

The handsome homicide detective wrinkled his nose at her in a snooty manner.

Danny snickered under his breath.

Up close, Danny noted the wicked gleam in Stella's green eyes. Uh oh, his Greek peer was up to something -

Stella waved a finger at the both of them, smirking.

"You two are _sooooo_ doing it."

Danny jerked where he stood. He stared at Stella, his mouth in the shape of an 'O'. _What _the? _How did _-

His mental reflexes kicked in.

"_What! _What are ya _talkin'_ 'bout, Stell?" Danny exclaimed with a laugh. He crossed his arms over his chest. Sniffled once. He sent Flack an intense, pointed look, his visage deceptively blank. "Don, did ya hear what she said?"

Flack was unusually quiet. The man glanced at Stella with wide eyes, then back at Danny, then back at Stella.

Danny decided to aim his gaze at Stella instead.

Oh man, if Stella ever considered becoming an actress, she'd be ideal for the role of a sexy, nefarious bad girl. Her red lips were curved up in a very naughty smile.

"_Sooooo_." Stella looked at Flack from beneath lowered eyelids. "_Cindy_, have you tried out those new _positions_ I recommended?"

The world stopped.

Danny felt the ground drop out from below him.

His jaw had to be somewhere around his feet.

"You -" Danny turned his head so fast, his neck made a cracking sound. "_Don! She knows!_"

Flack was grimacing. "Yeah. I know." The grimace became wider.

"You _know?!_" One of the shorter detective's hands flew to his hair, yanking on the brown tufts. "_YOU KNOW?!_"

The homicide detective winced, rearing back from Danny's bellow. "I _had _to, Danny, alright? I was missin' ya like _crazy_, and I didn't know what to do!"

Before Danny could reply, Stella spoke up.

"Danny, don't blame him." She smiled kindly at him. "The only reason he told me was because I, well." It was her turn to grimace. "I kind of … _threatened_ to tell Mac about it, if he didn't."

The bespectacled detective's other hand joined its counterpart on his head. "_Whaaaaaaat?!_"

Stella lifted the envelope in front of herself, a feeble shield against Danny's wrath. "I _had_ to get Flack to talk, Danny. You didn't see him in the locker room that day … he was … he was really torn up over you."

Flack was staring at something on the floor, his face somewhat red.

"And when he did tell me about your relationship, you know what he said to me? He was willing to sacrifice his whole career and future, his _life_, if it meant that it would protect you and keep you from being hurt." Stella gazed at the tall homicide detective, her brilliant green eyes tender and filled with something akin to admiration. "This is a man who _really_ loves you, Danny."

Danny lowered his arms to his sides. He stared at Flack, who still had his head bowed.

" … ya really _said_ that?"

Flack's expression was bashful. "Yeah."

It literally pained Danny to be unable to hug and kiss the taller man silly like he yearned to, right there and then. His heart felt like it was about to explode into a billion pieces. He thought it was impossible that he could love Flack any more than he already did.

Wow, was he wrong or _what_.

The blue-eyed CSI blinked numerous times, promising himself to make the coming night one heck of a night to remember for Flack. And after many minutes of staring into Flack's gorgeous baby blues, he eventually tore his gaze away from his other half to Stella.

"So, _uhm_." Danny cleared his throat. "I'm guessin' you're okay with us then, huh?"

Stella grinned from ear to ear. "Okay? I've known about you two from the _start_."

Danny's eyebrows shot up. "The _start?_"

"Yeah. You guys can get _quite_ noisy." Stella tilted her head. "The door of the locker room isn't as _thick_ as you think." She winked.

Danny's face went beet red. It took him a few moments to reply with, "If you've known 'bout Don and I all this time … why haven't ya told anyone 'bout us?" He suddenly grimaced. "_Not_ that I want ya to do that."

The Greek CSI puckered her lips. _Uhh_ oh, she had that _glint_ in her eyes again -

"Actually … I have."

"Please, tell me it's not _Mac_," Danny implored in a gruff voice.

The grimace was back on Stella's face. "Uhm. Yeah."

"_WHAT?!_" Flack's mien was red for a very different reason now. "You _promised_ you wouldn't tell him!"

The two men advanced on a worried Stella, who started taking steps backwards. "_Don_, _Danny_, _listen_ to me, I _had_ to tell him -"

Flack and Danny backed her into one of the tables, towering over her, arms folded across their broad chests.

"I had to tell him because -" - Stella squeezed her eyes shut - "IfIdidn'ttellhim, Iwouldn'thavewonthebetaboutyoutwoinarelationship, andwewouldn'tbeinoneourselves."

Both men gaped at her.

After some time spent deciphering Stella's rushed sentence, Flack asked, "Did you say … what I _think_ ya did?"

Stella peeled open one eye. "If I _didn't _tell him … I wouldn't have won the bet about you two in a relationship … and _we_ wouldn't be in one ourselves."

Flack made a waving motion in the air with his forefinger. "_You_ … and _Mac?_"

Stella licked at her lips, watching them with wary eyes. "Uh hmm."

The two guys stared at her some more, and then at each other. Then, they glanced back at her in unison, and said together, "Well, it's about _time_."

It was hilarious seeing Stella lose it for a change.

"What!" Her lower jaw dropped. After a second, she laughed out loud, her eyes crinkled in amusement. "Well! _You_ guys are ones to _talk!_"

Danny laughed as well.

"_Hey! _What's _that_ s'pposed to mean?!" Flack yelled.

"_Five years _ring a bell to you?"

Flack made a face in answer to Stella's question. "'Least I came to my senses a year ago. You and Mac have been workin' together even longer than Danny and I have!"

The Greek CSI and the homicide detective had a staring showdown that lasted an approximate seven seconds. It abruptly ended with Stella opening her arm, grinning and saying, "_Come _here, _you_."

Flack was more than happy to embrace her. "See, I _told_ ya I always get my man."

Stella chuckled at that.

Watching his two friends from a short distance, Danny smiled to himself. Huh. Things went much better than he anticipated. Ever since he and Flack got involved in a serious relationship, one of his biggest fears was that his colleagues would discover what was going on. That, and their negative reactions to it. He'd been so sure Stella would be one of those who reacted badly. It was nice to be proven wrong.

"_Hey_, you," Stella said to Danny. "Come here."

Danny loved receiving hugs from Stella. Now, knowing that Stella acknowledged and was totally fine with his relationship with Flack, they felt even sweeter. He rested his chin on her shoulder, closing his eyes when he felt her hand affectionately ruffling his shorn hair.

"I guess Mac's cool with it too, then," Danny said, after Stella broke the hug. He smirked. "He hasn't fired me." The smirk changed into a slight grimace. "_Yet_."

"Don't worry, he won't. Not if he wants to stay with me." Stella's eyes turned sultry. "And believe me, he _does_."

Flack whistled.

"_Anyway_ …" Stella sent Flack a mock reprimanding look, then handed Danny the envelope that had been in her clasp all this time. "This is for you."

Curiosity roused, the blue-eyed CSI took it from her and examined it. The address to CSI headquarters had been handwritten. There was no written return address, but he didn't need it. The chunky logo of Lockhaven Hospital at the top left corner of the envelope informed him well enough where the mail originated from.

"Met somebody at the hospital, Danny?" Stella said in a teasing manner. She smirked at him.

Danny cackled softly. He twirled the large envelope in his hands, wondering why Dr. Evans would send him mail. It had to be her, since she was the only one who knew who he was, and that he'd been there to visit Herman. And there was no way Herman, his mind the way it was, could post anything to him.

"Wait a sec." Flack's thick brows were low in a contemplative frown. "Mac's not the kinda guy to just take somebody at their word. Not without proof."

Stella raised one refined eyebrow.

The homicide detective glanced at her, frown transforming into a semi-suspicious one. "_Okay_, Stella. _What'd_ ya show 'im?"

The Greek woman appeared utterly prepared for that precise query.

"_Weeell _… you remember the party at Danny's apartment."

Flack's eyes narrowed. "_Yeeaaah_."

"Well …" Stella shuffled her feet. "Sometimes, when you go to a _party_, and your friends are all _enjoying_ themselves and they're too _drunk_ to notice anything …"

Flack's eyes narrowed even more. "_Yeeeaaaah?_"

Stella suddenly grinned like a cat at Danny. "Cucumbers and carrots, I get. But … _aubergines?_"

Danny's jaw was somewhere on the floor once more.

Holy _crap_.

Stella found their contract of one week's celibacy! And showed it to _Mac_. _With his and Flack's signatures on it_.

"Oh, _shit_. You _didn't_," Danny said with vehemence.

Flack was still trying to work out what Stella was insinuating. The man let out something between a confounded grunt and a growl, scratching at the side of his neck.

"_Annnnnd_ with that, I'm going to go." Stella winked at Danny. "See you boys later!"

Stella dashed to the laboratory door.

As if in slow motion, Flack's blue eyes widened to comical proportions as comprehension dawned on him.

The homicide detective's mouth fell open.

"_STEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!_"

Outside the lab, Stella screamed at the sight of Flack sprinting to the door and broke into a run, vanishing out of sight down the corridor. Flack was swift on her heels, all gangly, flailing limbs, roaring at the top of his voice.

"_STEEEEEEEELLA_, GET _BACK_ HERE!"

Stella's almost inaudible laughter that floated to his ears was ultimately what cracked Danny up. He returned to the stool he vacated earlier, sitting down hard and clutching his side at the hilarity of it all. Oh, _damn_, how was he _ever_ going to look at Mac's face again, without wondering if the guy knew he wasn't adverse to shoving _veggies_ up his _ass?_

By the time he was coughing himself out of his laughing fit, he had tears in his eyes. He put the envelope on the table beside him, removed his spectacles and put them on top of the envelope, then wiped his face dry with his hand. Geez, he hadn't laughed like that in a long time.

He soon realized he was alone in the room. No idea when Flack was going to return from his Stella-hunting expedition. He could always phone the guy anyway.

"Let's see what ya got for me, Dr. Evans," Danny murmured to himself, putting his glasses back on.

He peeled open the glued flap, and tugged out two pieces of paper, one bigger than the other. The smaller one was a handwritten letter. Danny decided to read that first. He brought it closer to his face, squinting a bit at the black, cursive words.

_Detective Messer,_

_I thought that you might appreciate the attached drawing to this letter. It was drawn by Herman a few days after your visit. He's doing much better than he has in years, and is actually responding more and more to people and his surroundings. I foresee even more improvement in his condition in the months to come. I don't know exactly what the two of you discussed during your visit, but, whatever it was, it has made all the difference in the world to him._

_For that, I will always be grateful._

_Herman sends his regards._

_Best wishes,_

_Dr. Marie Evans._

Danny folded up the letter, a soft smile on his face. Way to _go_, Herman. Dr. Evans' progress report was wonderful news on an already wonderful day. He placed the letter aside, then plucked up the rectangular paper that displayed Herman's sketch.

The longer he gazed at it, the more blurry his sight became. He wasn't a guy who was easily moved to tears, not unless it was something that struck him deep in the heart. And the colorful drawing in his hands was one such something.

It was a straightforward image of a sunny day outside, as depicted by the yellow sun with its wavy rays, and the green grass and the little iridescent flowers scattered all over it. There were two people in the middle of it all, a woman with long hair and a small boy holding her hand and huggling a teddy bear.

They were smiling.

**Fin. **


End file.
